LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF 
CALIFORNIA 

SANTA  CRUZ 


PARTNERS    OF    THE    TIDE 


"I  never  dreamed  that  I'd  come  to  be  skipper  of  a  coal-hod." 
Page  122.  Partners  of  the  Tide. 


Partners  of  the  Tide 


By  JOSEPH    C.  LINCOLN 


Author  of  "  Cap'n  Eri 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS 


A.  L.   BURT   COMPANY    PUBLISHERS 

NEW  YORK 


Copyright,  1908, 

BT 

A.  S.  BARNES  &  CO. 


Published  April,  1906 


Copyright,  1905,  by  A.  8.  Barne*  d  (Jo. 

CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  *Gi 

I.     THE   ORHAM  STAGE I 

II.     THE  "OLD    MAIDS" 20 

III.  THE  "Doc   GIRL" 40 

IV.  THE  "LAST  DAY" 64 

V.      A  CHANGE  OF  PLANS 86 

VI.     THE  THOMAS  DOANE. ', 103 

VII.      A  QUESTION    OF   roLicv 121 

VIII.      HOME  AGAIN. , 148 

IX.     WRECKING  AND    WALTZING 169 

X.      THE   LUMBER    SCHOONER 193 

XI.      AT  SETUCKIT    POINT 210 

XII.      THE  ANCHOR  OF  THE  LIBERTY 22,8 

XIII.  MR.   COOK   WIRES 247 

XIV.  THE  "SUBSCRIPTION    BALL" 262 

XV.      THE  DIVING    BELLE 282 

XVI.     THE  CAPTAIN'S  GAMBLE 294 

XVII.      WORK  AND  WORRY 306 

XVIII.      MR.   SAM  HAMMOND 318 

XIX.     THE   BURGLAR.,    329 

XX.      A  DEBT  is   PAID. 347 

XXI.      "STORM  ALONG,  JOHN  !" 363 

XXII.     THANKSGIVING 384 


PARTNERS   OF   THE   TIDE 


PARTNERS   OF  THE  TIDE 


tt 


'CHAPTER    I. 


THE  ORHAM  STAGE. 


AS  you  cal'latin'  to  buy  one  of 
them  turnovers,  bub?"  casual- 
ly inquired  Mr.  Clark,  ceasing 
to  gaze  at  his  steaming  boots, 
which  were  planted  against  the  bulging  centre  of  the 
station  stove,  and  turning  toward  the  boy  at  the  lunch 
counter. 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  the  boy.     He  had  taken  off  one 

i 


w 


2  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

worsted  mitten  and  held  a  five-cent  piece  clutched 
tightly  in  his  red  fist. 

"I  want  to  know !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Clark,  and  then, 
bending  forward,  as  much  as  his  girth  would  allow, 
to  wink  'round  the  corner  of  the  stove  at  Mr.  Bodkin, 
who  sat  opposite,  he  added:  "Ain't  your  ma  ever 
learned  you  to  respect  age?" 

The  boy  made  no  reply  to  this  question,  but  Mr. 
Bodkin  slapped  his  thigh  and  remarked  that  that  was 
"a  good  one." 

"Them  turnovers,"  continued  Mr.  Clark,  "was 
willed  to  this  depot  by  the  man  that  used  to  drive  the 
Ostable  bake-cart.  He's  dead  now,  and  here  you  be, 
figgerin*  to  eat  up  his  gravestone.  Dear,  dearl  I 
don't  know  what  this  country's  comin'  to.  Ike, 
gimme  a  match." 

Mr.  Bodkin,  after  his  laugh  was  over,  produced 
a  "card"  of  matches  and  passed  them  to  the  humor- 
ist, who  used  one  to  relight  the  stump  of  his  cigar 
and  put  the  remainder  in  his  pocket.  Then  he  re- 
turned to  his  subject. 

"Them  turnovers "  he  began,  but  was  inter- 
rupted by  the  station  agent,  who  came  out  of  the 
little  room  where  the  telegraph  instrument  was  click- 
ing, and  stepped  behind  the  lunch  counter.  He  looked 
at  the  joker  and  his  companion  in  anything  but  a 
friendly  manner. 

"Those  turnovers,"  said  the  station  agent,  "were 
fresh  yesterday  and  they're  good  for  somethin',  which 
is  more  than  I  can  say  about  some  other  fresh  things 
around  this  depot  jest  now.  Lon  Clark,  I'd  like  to 


THE  ORHAM  STAGE  3 

remind  you  that  we  use  blackin'  on  that  stove,  not 
terbacker  juice.  Well,  boy,  what'll  you  have?'* 

The  boy,  thus  appealed  to,  held  up  his  five-cent 
piece  and  said  that  he  should  like  one  of  the  slan- 
dered "  turn  overs." 

"All  right;  which'll  it  be — mince  or  apple?" 

"If  I  was  you,"  suggested  Mr.  Clark,  not  yet  com- 
pletely crushed,  "I'd  take  the  mince  kind.  You  know 
what  you'll  git  if  you  take  apple,  but  baker's  mince- 
meat's kind  of  a  myst'ry.  Might  bite  into  a  gold 
dollar,  like  as  not;  hey,  Ike?" 

"Give  me  an  apple  one,"  said  the  boy,  decidedly. 

The  station  agent  wrapped  the  pastry  in  a  piece 
of  newspaper  and  handed  it  to  his  customer.  Then 
he  came  out  from  behind  the  counter  and,  looking  at 
Mr.  Clark  and  his  friend,  sniffed  suspiciously. 

"Either  of  you  fellers  got  your  boots  afire?"  he 
asked,  after  a  moment.  "Seems  to  me  I  smell  some- 
thin'  mean,  like  leather  burnin'.  Oh,  excuse  me, 
Lon;  I  didn't  notice  your  cigar."  And,  having  un- 
loaded this  bit  of  sarcasm,  he  returned  to  the  tele- 
graph instrument. 

The  boy,  a  youngster  of  about  twelve  years  of 
age,  with  a  freckled  face  and  a  pair  of  bright  gray 
eyes,  took  his  "turnover"  to  the  settee  in  the  corner 
of  the  waiting-room  and  began  to  eat.  He  had  on  a 
worn  cloth  cap  with  an  attachment  that  could  be 
pulled  down  to  cover  the  ears,  and  a  shabby  overcoat 
of  man's  size,  very  much  too  large  for  him.  As  he 
munched  the  greasy  crust  and  the  thin  layer  of  "evap- 
orated" apple,  he  looked  around  him  with  interest. 


4  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

The  station  itself  was  like  the  average  railway 
building  on  Cape  Cod.  Except  for  the  sign  "Har- 
niss"  that  hung  outside,  it  might  have  been  the  station 
at  Wellmouth,  which  he  had  seen  so  often.  Battered 
settees  around  the  walls;  lithographs  of  steamers, 
time-tables  and  year-old  announcements  of  excursions 
and  county  fairs  hung  above  them ;  big  stove  set  in  a 
box  of  sawdust — all  these  were  the  regulation  fix- 
tures. Regulation  also  were  the  "refreshments"  on 
the  counter  at  the  side — "turnovers"  arranged  cob- 
house  fashion  under  a  glass  cover,  with  a  dingy 
"Washington"  pie  under  another  cover,  and  jars  of 
striped  stick  candy  with  boxes  of  "jawbreakers"  and 
similar  sweetmeats  between. 

It  was  snowing  hard  and,  in  the  dusk  of  the  winter 
evening,  the  flakes  rustled  against  the  windows  as  if 
unseen  old  ladies  in  starched  summer  gowns  were 
shivering  in  the  storm  and  crowding  to  get  a  peep 
within.  The  air  in  the  shut  waiting-room  smelt  of 
hot  stove,  sawdust,  wet  clothing  and  Mr.  Clark's 
cigar.  To  this  collection  of  perfumes  was  presently 
added  the  odor  of  kerosene  as  the  station  agent  lit 
the  big  lamps  in  their  brackets  on  the  wall. 

From  outside  came  the  sounds  of  creaking  wheels 
and  stamping  horses,  the  stamping  muffled  by  the 
snow  which  covered  the  ground.  Also  some  one,  in 
a  voice  more  vigorous  than  sweet,  was  heard  to  sing 
a  chorus  of  "Hi,  randy,  dandy — o!"  Mr.  Clark 
and  his  friend  took  their  feet  down  from  the  stove 
and  looked  expectantly  toward  the  door,  the  former 
remarking  that  "Barney  was  feelin'  gay  to-night," 


THE  ORHAM  STAGE  5 

and  that  he  "must  have  a  bottle  of  consolation 
along." 

The  door  opened  and  a  big  man,  with  a  face  of 
which  gray  whiskers  and  red  nose  were  the  most 
prominent  features,  came  stamping  and  puffing  into 
the  room.  He  jerked  off  a  pair  of  leather  gloves, 
playfully  shook  the  congealed  moisture  from  them 
down  Mr.  Clark's  neck  inside  his  collar,  tossed  a  long 
whip  into  the  corner,  and,  holding  his  spread  fingers 
over  the  stove,  began  to  sing  "Whoa,  Emma!"  with 
enthusiasm. 

Mr.  Clark  being  too  busy  clawing  the  melting 
snow  from  his  neck  to  open  a  conversation, 
Mr.  Bodkin  observed:  "Hello,  Barney!  How's 
the  trav'lin'?  Have  a  rough  time  drivin' 
over?" 

"Oh,  middlin'  middlin',"  replied  the  driver  of  the 
Orham  stage,  unbuttoning  his  overcoat  and  reach- 
ing for  his  pipe;  "but  this  earth's  a  vale  of  tears, 
anyhow,  so  what's  the  odds  so  long's  you're  happy. 
Hello,  Dan!"  The  last  a  shouted  greeting  to  the 
station  agent  in  the  little  room,  whose  answer  was  a 
wave  of  the  hand  and  a  sidelong  nod  across  the  tele- 
graph instrument. 

"What's  doin'  over  in  Orham,  Barney?"  inquired 
Mr.  Clark. 

"Methodist  folks  are  goin'  to  start  up  temp'rance 
meetin's;  Seth  Wingate's  bought  a  new  horse;  and 
'Hungry'  Bill  Samuels  has  got  another  child — that's 
the  latest  excitement  jest  about  now.  Not  that  hun- 
gry' Bill's  baby  was  much  of  a  surprise;  you  can 


6  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

gin'rally  count  on  a  new  Samuels  every  year.  The 
temp'rance  revival  is  the  reel  thing,  though;  folks 
signin'  the  pledge  as  if  'twas  catchin',  like  the 
measles." 

"You  ain't  developed  the  symptoms  yit,  have 
you?"  asked  Mr.  Clark,  with  a  laugh. 

uNo,  not  yit.     Lucky  I  was  vaccinated  young.     I ' 
ain't  takin'  no  chances,  though;  keep  plenty  of  pre- 
ventative  in  the  house  all  the  time;"  and,  with  a  pro- 
found wink,  Mr.  Small  began  to  hum,  "Cold  water, 
cold  water;  oh,  that  is  my  song!" 

"Oh,  say!"  he  shouted,  suddenly  interrupting  his 
own  concert,  "say,  Dan !  there  is  some  more  news, 
after  all.  Come  out  here  a  minute;  I  want  to  tell 
you  somethin'." 

The  station  agent  turned  his  head  in  the  speaker's 

direction.     "Go  ahead,"  he  said,  "I  can  hear  you." 

"Well,  I  thought  you'd  be  interested,  bein'  as  you 

used  to  live  in  Orham.     Prissy  and  Tempy's  adopted 

a  boy." 

The  agent  evidently  was  interested.  "What?"  he 
exclaimed. 

"Prissy  and  Tempy's  took  a  boy  to  bring  up.  Oh, 
it's  a  fact !  It  took  me  some  time  to  b'lieve  it,  my- 
self, but  it's  so." 

"The  old  maids?" 

"Yup,  the  old  maids.  I  s'pose  they  come  to  reel- 
ize  that  they  needed  a  man  'round  the  house,  but  as 
there  wan't  no  bids  in  that  line,  they  sort  of  com- 
promised on  a  boy." 

"You  don't  mean  the  Allen  old  maids  that  live 


THE  ORHAM  STAGE  7 

down  on  the  'lower  road,'  do  you?"  asked  Mr. 
Bodkin. 

uSartin.  I  said  the  old  maids,  didn't  I?  There's 
plenty  of  single  women  in  Orham,  but  when  you  say 
'the  old  maids'  in  our  town,  everybody  knows  you 
mean  Prissy  and  Tempy." 

"I  done  a  job  for  them  once,"  remarked  Mr.  Bod- 
kin, reflectively.  "I  was  over  to  Orham  sellin'  ber- 
ries. I  warn't  reelly  lookin'  for  no  work,  you  under- 
stand, but " 

"Yup,  we  understand,"  said  the  stage  driver,  dryly. 
"It  sort  of  reached  out  and  nabbed  you  'fore  you 
could  git  away." 

"That's  it,"  assented  Ike,  oblivious  to  the  sarcasm. 
"I  called  at  their  place — it's  that  big,  old-fashioned 
house  by  John  Baxter's  cranb'ry  swamp,  Lon — and 
Miss  Prissy  Allen,  she  bought  the  last  of  my  huckle- 
berries. Then  she  wanted  to  know  if  I  wouldn't  mow 
the  front  yard.  We  had  some  dicker  'bout  the  price, 
but  I  fin'lly  agreed  to  do  it,  so  she  showed  me  where 
the  scythe  was  and  I  started  in.  And  I  swan  to  man," 
continued  Mr.  Bodkin,  excitedly,  "if  she  didn't  stand 
on  the  front  steps  and  watch  me  like  a  dog  tryin'  to 
locate  a  flea,  jumpin1  on  me  every  minute  or  two  to 
tell  me  that  she  thought  I'd  cut  this  part  '  'most  an 
inch  shorter'n  I  had  that  part,'  and  so  on.  Fin'lly 
I  got  sick  of  her  naggin',  and  I  says,  jest  to  shame 
her,  I  says,  'If  I'd  known  you  was  so  partic'lar,'  I 
says,  'I'd  a-brought  my  sperrit  level  along,'  I  says. 
And  says  she,  'There's  one  that  used  to  b'long  to 
father  out  in  the  barn.'  Well,  sir !  that  was  too  much 


8  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

for  me!    'I  don't  mow  grass  by  no  sperrit  level/  says 
I,  'and  I  tell  you,  I— 

"What  about  the  boy,  Barney?"  said  the  station 
agent,  coming  into  the  waiting-room. 

"Why,"  said  Mr.  Small,  "it's  this  way;  seems  that 
Prissy  and  Tempy's  father,  old  Cap'n  D'rius  Allen — \ 
he's  been  dead  six  years  or  more  now — had  a  niece 
name  of  Sophia,  that  married  Cap'n  Ben  Nickerson 
over  to  W^ellmouth.  Cap'n  Ben  and  his  wife  had 
one  son ;  I  think  the  boy's  name's  Bradley.  Anyhow, 
Cap'n  Ben  and  his  wife  was  drowned  off  the  Portu- 
guese coast  two  years  ago  when  Ben's  bark  was  lost; 
maybe  you  remember?  WTell,  the  boy  was  left  at 
home  that  voyage  with  Ben's  ha'f  brother,  Solon 
Nickerson,  so's  the  youngster  could  go  to  school. 
When  his  folks  was  drownded  that  way  the  boy  kept 
on  livin'  with  Solon  till,  'bout  three  weeks  ago,  Solon 
was  took  with  pneumony  and  up  and  died.  Prissy 
and  Tempy's  the  only  relations  there  was,  you  see,  so 
it  was  left  to  them  to  say  what  should  be  done  with 
the  boy.  I  cal'late  there  must  have  been  some 
high  old  pow-wowin'  in  the  old  house,  but  the 
old  maids  are  pretty  conscientious,  spite  of  their 
bein'  so  everlastin'  'old  maidy,'  and  they  fin'lly 
decided  'twas  their  duty  to  take  the  little  fel- 
ler to  bring  up.  That's  the  way  /  heard  the 
yarn.  They  kept  it  a  secret  until  yesterday,  but 
now  the  whole  town's  talkin'  'bout  it.  You  see,  it's 
such  a  good  joke  for  them  two  to  have  a  boy  in  the 
house.  Why,  Prissy's  been  used  to  shooin'  every  stray 
boy  off  the  place  as  if  he  was  a  hen." 


THE  ORHAM  STAGE  9 

Mr.  Small  laughed  so  heartily  at  this  that  the 
others  joined  in.  When  the  hilarity  had  subsided, 
the  station  agent  asked: 

"When's  the  Nickerson  boy  comin'  over  from 
Wellmouth?" 

"Why,  to-day,  come  to  think  of  it.  He  was  to 
come  up  on  the  afternoon  train  from  Wellmouth  and 
go  to  Orharn  with  me  to-night.  You  ain't  seen 
nothin' " 

The  station  agent  interrupted  him  with  a  sidelong 
movement  of  the  head. 

"Huh?"  queried  Mr.  Small.  Then  he,  in  com- 
pany with  Mr.  Clark  and  Mr.  Bodkin,  turned  to- 
ward the  corner  of  the  waiting-room. 

The  boy  who  had  bought  the  apple  "turnover," 
having  finished  the  last  crumb  of  that  viand,  had 
turned  to  the  window,  and  was  looking  out  through 
a  hole  he  had  scraped  in  the  frost  on  the  pane.  He 
had  shaded  his  face  with  his  hands  to  shut  out  the 
lamplight,  and,  though  he  must  have  heard  the  con- 
versation, his  manner  betrayed  no  interest  in  it. 

Mr.  Small  interrogated  the  station  agent  by  rais- 
ing his  eyebrows.  The  agent  whispered,  "Shouldn't 
wonder,"  and  added:  "He  came  on  the  up-train  this 
afternoon." 

"Hey,  boy!"  said  Mr.  Clark,  who  never  let  con- 
sideration for  other  people  interfere  with  his  own 
curiosity,  "what's  your  name?" 

The  boy  turned  from  the  window  and,  blinking  a 
little  as  the  light  struck  his  eyes,  faced  the  group  by 
the  stove.  His  freckled  cheeks  glistened  as  the  light 


io  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

shone  upon  them,  but,  as  if  he  knew  this,  he  pulled 
the  big  sleeve  of  the  overcoat  across  his  face  and 
rubbed  them  dry. 

"What's  your  name,  sonny  ?"  said  the  stage  driver, 
kindly. 

"Nickerson,"  said  the  boy  in  a  low  tone. 

"I  want  to  know !  Your  fust  name  ain't  Bradley, 
is  it?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Sho !  well,  there  now !  Guess  you're  goin'  to  ride 
over  with  me  then.  I  drive  the  Orham  coach. 
Hum!  well,  I  declare!"  And  Mr.  Small  pulled  his 
beard  in  an  embarrassed  fashion. 

"Come  over  to  the  stove  and  get  warm,  won't 
you?"  asked  the  station  agent. 

"I  ain't  cold,"  was  the  reply. 

"Well,  ain't  you  hungry  now?"  said  Barney,  who 
was  afraid  that  his  roughly  told  story  had  hurt  the 
youngster's  feelings.  "Won't  you  have  somethin'  to 
eat?  One  of  them  turnovers  or  some  Washington 
pie,  or  somethin',  hey?  Got  a  long  ride  ahead  of 
you,  you  know." 

"He's  got  outside  of  one  turnover  already,"  said 
Clark,  with  a  loud  laugh,  "and  that's  enough  to  last 
most  folks  for  a  consid'rable  spell.  Haw !  haw !" 

"Shut  up,  Lon,"  snapped  the  stage  driver.  "What 
d'you  say,  son?  Somethin'  to  eat?" 

"'I  ain't  hungry,  thank  you,"  said  the  boy,  and 
turned  to  the  window  again. 

The  trio  by  the  stove  fidgeted  in  silence  for  a  few 
moments,  and  then  Mr.  Small  said,  uneasily:  "Ain't 


THE  ORHAM  STAGE  1 1 

it  'most  time  for  that  train  to  be  in?  She's  a  ha'f 
hour  late  now." 

"She  was  twenty-five  minutes  late  at  Sandwich," 
said  the  station  agent,  "and  she's  prob'ly  lost  ten 
minutes  or  so  since  then.  She'll  be  along  in  a  little 
while  now." 

But  in  spite  of  this  cheerful  prophecy  a  full  fifteen 
minutes  passed  before  the  train,  which  had  been 
started  from  Boston  with  the  vague  idea  that,  some 
time  or  other,  it  might  get  to  Provincetown,  came 
coughing  and  panting  'round  the  curve  and  drew  up 
at  the  station  platform.  Car  roofs  and  sides,  and 
tender  and  locomotive  were  plastered  thick  with 
snow,  and  the  empty  seats  seen  through  the  doors  as 
the  trainmen  emerged,  showed  that  travel  for  this 
night  was  very  light  indeed.  In  fact,  only  one  pas- 
senger got  out  at  the  Harniss  station,  and  he,  stop- 
ping for  a  moment  to  hand  his  trunk  check  to  the 
station  agent,  walked  briskly  into  the  waiting-room 
and  slammed  the  door  behind  him. 

"Hello!"  he  hailed,  pulling  off  a  buckskin  glove 
and  holding  out  a  big  hand  to  the  stage  driver. 
"Barney,  how's  she  headin'?" 

Mr.  Small  grinned  and  took  the  proffered  hand. 

"Well,  for  the  land's  sake,  Ez  Titcomb!"  he  ex- 
claimed. "Where'd  you  drop  from?  Thought  you 
was  somewheres  off  the  coast  between  New  York 
and  Portland  jest  'bout  now." 

"Got  shore  leave  for  a  fortni't  or  so,"  said  the 
newcomer,  unbuttoning  his  overcoat  with  a  smart 
jerk,  and  throwing  it  wide  open.  "Schooner  sprung 


12  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

a  leak  off  Gay  Head  last  trip  and  she's  hauled  up  at 
East  Boston  for  repairs.  Dirty  weather,  ain't  it? 
Hello,  Lon?  How  are  you,  Ike?" 

Mr.  Clark  and  his  friend  grinned  and  responded, 
"How  are  you,  Cap'n  Ez?"  in  unison. 

The  arrival  was  a  short,  thickset  man,  with  a  sun- 
burned face,  sharp  eyes,  hair  that  was  a  reddish 
brown  sprinkled  with  gray,  and  a  close-clipped  mus- 
tache of  the  same  color.  He  wore  a  blue  overcoat 
over  a  blue  suit,  and  held  a  cigar  firmly  in  one  cor- 
ner of  his  mouth.  His  movements  were  quick  and 
sharp,  and  he  snapped  out  his  sentences  with  vigor. 

"Full  cargo  to-night?"  he  asked  of  Mr.  Small,  who 
was  buttoning  his  overcoat  and  pulling  on  his  gloves. 

"Pretty  nigh  an  empty  hold,"  was  the  reply. 
"Only  'bout  one  and  a  ha'f  goin'  over.  You're  the 
one  and  the  boy  here's  the  ha'f." 

The  Captain  looked  at  the  boy  by  the  window  and 
smiled  pleasantly. 

"Well,  son,"  he  observed,  "you  and  me'll  have  the 
whole  cabin  to  ourselves,  won't  we?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  youngster.  He  had  pulled 
from  behind  the  settee  an  old-fashioned  carpet-bag, 
the  cadaverous  sides  of  which  testified  that  the  ward- 
robe it  held  was  not  an  extensive  one.  Mr.  Clark, 
'who  had  a  reputation  as  a  humorist  to  sustain,  noticed 
the  bag  and  rose  to  the  occasion. 

"Say,  bub,"  he  said,  "you  ought  to  feed  that  satchel 
of  yours  two  or  three  of  them  apple  turnovers ;  maybe 
'twould  fat  up  some." 

Ike  Bodkin  roared  at  his  friend's  witticism,  and  the 


THE  ORHAM  STAGE  13 

boy  turned  red  and  looked  out  of  the  window  once 
more.  Captain  Titcomb  noticed  the  lad's  confusion, 
and  remarked  cheerfully: 

"Lon,  you  remind  me  of  that  flyin'  machine  old 
Cap'n  Labe  Saunders  was  perfectin'  for  the  five  years 
afore  he  died.  You're  fat  and  full  of  hot  air,  but 
you  won't  work.  Turnovers  are  all  right;  I  like 
turnovers  myself.  All  ready,  Barney?" 

"All  aboard!"  shouted  the  stage  driver.  "Come 
on,  Brad.  You  and  the  Cap'n  git  inside,  while  me 
and  Dan  git  the  dunnage  on  the  rack." 

The  boy  picked  up  the  carpet-bag  and  followed 
Mr.  Small  out  to  the  rear  platform  of  the  station, 
where  the  coach,  an  old-fashioned,  dingy  vehicle, 
drawn  by  four  sleepy  horses,  stood  waiting. 

Captain  Titcomb  followed,  his  overcoat  flapping 
in  the  wind. 

"Here,  Barney,"  he  observed,  "have  a  cigar  to 
smoke  on  the  road.  Have  one,  Dan?  Here,  Lon, 
here's  a  couple  for  you  and  Ike.  Who's  the  little 
feller?"  he  added,  in  a  whisper,  to  the  station  agent. 

"Ben  Nickerson's  boy  from  Wellmouth.  He's 
comin'  down  to  Orham  to  live  with  the  old  maids. 
They've  adopted  him." 

"The  old  maids?  Not  the  old  maids?  Not 
Prissy  and  Tempy?" 

"Yup.     All  right,  Barney;  I'm  comin'." 

The  station  agent  hurried  away  to  help  the  driver 
with  the  Captain's  sea  chest,  and  its  owner,  apparently 
overcome  with  astonishment,  climbed  mutely  into  the 
coach,  where  his  fellow  passenger  had  preceded  him. 


H  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

The  old  vehicle  rocked  and  groaned  as  the  heavy 
chest  was  strapped  on  the  racks  behind.  Then  it 
tipped  again,  as  Mr.  Small  climbed  clumsily  to  the 
driver's  seat. 

"All  ashore  that's  goin'  ashore!"  shouted  Mr. 
Small.  "So  long,  Dan.  Git  dap,  Two-forty!" 

The  whip  cracked,  the  coach  reeled  on  its  springs, 
and  the  whole  equipage  disappeared  in  the  snow  and 
blackness. 

"Humph!"  grunted  Mr.  Clark,  as  he  peered  after 
it.  "This  ain't  no  five-cent  cigar.  Might  know  it 
come  from  Ez  Titcomb.  It's  a  queer  thing  that  other 
coastin'  skippers  have  to  put  up  with  a  pipe ;  but  that 
ain't  Ez's  style — no  sir-ee !" 

"Yup,"  assented  Mr.  Bodkin,  "and  that  ain't  the 
only  queer  thing.  How  is  it  he  can  have  such  good 
clothes,  and  fetch  home  such  nice  presents  and  one 
thing  or  'nother,  when  other  fellows  in  the  same  bus'- 
ness  can't.  Oh,  he's  smart,  all  right  enough !  Some 
folks  thinks  he's  too  smart.  They  say " 

"Some  folks  says  he'll  bear  watchin',"  continued 
Lon,  puffing  vigorously  at  the  cigar.  "Now,  under- 
stand, /  don't  say  nothin',  but " 

"If  you  fellers  are  intendin'  to  sleep  here  you'd 
better  be  makin'  up  your  beds,"  interrupted  the 
station  agent.  "I'm  goin'  to  shut  up  shop  and  go 
home." 

This  was  in  the  days  before  the  Orham  Branch" 
Railroad  was  built,  and  passengers  for  the  latter  vil- 
lage were  obliged  to  leave  the  train  at  Harniss  and 


THE  ORHAM  STAGE  15 

take  the  ten-mile  stage  ride  under  the  guidance  of 
Mr.  Small  or  his  partner  "Labe"  Lothrop.  The 
coaches  were  of  about  the  same  ages  as  their  drivers, 
the  horses  were  not  so  very  many  years  younger,  and 
the  roads  were  deeply  rutted,  so  the  home-coming 
mariners  of  Orham,  no  matter  how  smooth  their  sea 
voyages  might  have  been,  were  certain  of  a  "rough 
passage"  during  the  concluding  portion  of  their 
journeys. 

The  boy,  Bradley  Nickerson,  had  never  ridden  in 
a  stage  coach  before  and,  after  ten  or  fifteen  minutes 
of  jolt  and  roll,  he  decided  that  he  never  wanted  to 
ride  in  one  again.  He  had  chosen  the  middle  seat, 
the  back  of  which  was  a  broad  leather  strap  just  high 
enough  to  slap  him  vigorously  on  the  back  of  the  head 
when  he  sat  upright,  and  the  cushions,  from  years  of 
wear,  sloped  down  to  a  sharp  edge  in  front.  If  he 
crouched  to  avoid  the  strap,  he  was  in  danger  of  slid- 
ing off  the  seat  altogether. 

It  was  dark  inside  the  coach  and  very  stuffy,  and 
the  Captain  was  smoking.  The  snow  struck  the  win- 
dows as  if  some  one  was  throwing  it  in  handfuls. 
There  was  some  straw  on  the  floor,  intended  to  warm 
the  feet  of  passengers  who  traveled  on  such  nights  as 
this,  but  Bradley's  feet  did  not  reach  the  floor,  and 
there  was  a  vigorous  draught  of  fresh  air  coming 
through  the  door  cracks.  In  the  lulls  of  the  wind, 
Mr.  Small's  voice  was  faintly  heard  singing  "Beulah 
land"  or  swearing  at  the  horses. 

Suddenly  Captain  Titcomb,  who  had  been  silent 
so  far,  spoke. 


1 6  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

"Heavy  sea  on  to-night,"  he  observed.  "  Tears 
to  me  Barney'd  better  take  a  reef.  She's  rollin'  con- 
sider'ble." 

The  boy  laughed  and  said,  "Yes,  sir." 

"Coin'  all  the  way  to  Orham?"  asked  the  Captain. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Got  folks  over  there,  I  presume  likely.  Friends, 
or  nothin'  but  jest  relations?" 

"Relations,  I — I  guess." 

"So!  Well,  I've  got  a  good  many  relations  over 
there  myself.  Fact  is,  I've  got  relations,  seems  to 
me,  'most  everywheres.  Father  used  to  have  so 
many  of  'em,  that  when  he  went  visitin'  he  used  to 
call  it  'goin'  cousinin'.'  My  name's  Titcomb;  what 
do  they  call  you  when  your  back  ain't  turned?" 

The  boy  laughed  again,  in  a  puzzled  way — he 
scarcely  knew  what  to  make  of  his  questioner — and 
said  that  his  name  was  Bradley  Nickerson. 

"Nickerson,  hey?  That  settles  it;  you're  a  Cape 
Codder.  Minute  I  meet  anybody  named  Nickerson 
I  always  know  they've  got  the  same  kind  of  sand  in 
their  boots  that  I  have.  Is  it  Obed  Nickerson's  folks 
you're  goin'  to  see?" 

"No,  sir.  I'm  goin'  to  live  with  Miss  Priscilla 
Allen.  Her  and  her  sister;  they  was  some  of  moth- 
er's people." 

"Sho !  well  I  swan !"  muttered  the  Captain.  "Prissy 
and  Tempy,  hey?  Then  Dan  wan't  foolin'.  And 
you're  goin'  to  live  with  'em?" 

"Yes,  sir.     Do  you  know  'em?" 

"Who — me?     Oh,    yes!     I    know    'em.     I'm    a 


THE  ORHAM  STAGE  17 

particular  friend  of  theirs.  That  is,"  he  added,  cau- 
tiously, "I  call  on  'em  once  in  a  while  jest  to  say  'How 
are  you ?'  Why?  You  didn't  hear  any  of  them  fel- 
lers at  the  depot  say  anything  'bout  me  and  them,  did 

you?  No!  Well,  all  right,  I  jest  thought . 

Oh,  yes  I  I  know  'em.  Nice  folks  as  ever  was,  but 
what  you  might  call  a  little  mite  'sot  in  their  ways/ 
Do  you  always  wipe  your  feet  when  you  come  into  the 
house?" 

"Why — why — yes,  sir;  if  I  don't  forget  it." 

"All  right;  it's  a  good  habit  to  git  into,  'specially 
if  you're  goin'  to  walk  on  Prissy's  floors.  Some- 
times I've  wished  I  could  manage  to  put  my  feet  in 
my  pocket  when  I've  been  there.  I  wonder  if  I  knew 
your  father  ?  What  was  his  name  ?" 

Bradley  told  his  father's  name  and,  in  response  to 
the  Captain's  tactful  questioning,  a  good  deal  more 
besides.  In  fact,  before  long  Captain  Titcoinb  knew 
all  about  the  boy,  where  he  came  from,  how  he  hap- 
pened to  come,  and  all  the  rest.  And  Bradley,  for 
his  part,  learned  that  his  companion  commanded  the 
coasting  schooner  Thomas  Doane;  that  he  had  been 
a  sailor  ever  since  he  was  fourteen;  that  he  had  a 
marvelous  fund  of  sea  yarns  and  knew  how  to  spin 
them;  and  that  he — Bradley — liked  him. 

By  and  by  the  Captain  noticed  that  the  boy's  re- 
plies to  his  cheerful  observations  were  growing  rather 
incoherent,  and,  suspecting  the  reason,  he  ceased  to 
talk.  A  few  minutes  later  he  leaned  forward  and 
smiled  to  find  his  fellow  traveler,  who  had  slipped 
down  upon  the  cushion,  fast  asleep.  Carefully  he 


1 8  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

drew  up  the  boy's  feet,  made  him  more  comfortable, 
and  taking  the  worn  laprobe  from  his  own  knees, 
threw  it  over  the  sleeper.  Bradley  dozed  on  in  the 
darkness.  An  hour  went  by,  and  then  he  was  awak- 
ened by  the  coach  stopping.  Outside  some  one  was 
yelling,  "Hi,  there!"  at  the  top  of  his  lungs. 

"Don't  be  scared,  Bradley,"  said  the  Captain. 
"It's  only  foolish  Sol." 

He  lowered  the  upper  half  of  the  window  as  he 
spoke  and  Bradley  saw  a  light  zig-zagging  down  a 
bank  by  the  roadside.  As  it  came  nearer  he  saw  that 
it  was  a  lantern  in  the  hands  of  a  tall  man  with  red 
whiskers,  who,  muffled  in  a  striped  tippet  and  a 
mangy  fur  cap,  came  stumbling  through  the  snow  to 
the  coach. 

"Hello,  Sol!"  hailed  Mr.  Small  from  the  box. 
" What  d'you  want?" 

"Hi,  there !"  said  the  man  with  the  lantern.  "Got 
any  terbacker?" 

The  stage  driver  produced  a  plug,  cut  off  a  fair- 
sized  chunk  with  a  big  knife,  and  handed  it  down  to 
the  man. 

"There  you  be,"  he  observed,  and  added,  "would 
you  b'lieve  it,  Sol,  I  kind  of  s'picioned  you  wanted 
terbacker  when  I  fust  heard  you." 

"Here's  a  plug  I  brought  on  purpose  for  you,  Sol," 
said  Captain  Titcomb,  handing  a  carefully  wrapped 
package  through  the  open  window. 

The  man  grinned,  took  the  tobacco,  and  stood  grin- 
ning and  bowing  as  the  coach  went  on. 

"That's  foolish  Sol  Newcomb,"  explained  Captain 


THE  ORHAM  STAGE  19 

Titcomb.  "His  top  riggin's  out  of  gear,  but  he's  a 
harmless  critter.  Lives  off  in  the  woods  here,  and 
there  ain't  a  trip  this  coach  makes,  day  or  night,  that 
he  ain't  waitin'  for  it,  to  beg  terbacker.  Some  folks 
carry  a  piece  on  purpose  for  him." 

The  next  time  Bradley  awoke,  Captain  Titcomb 
was  standing  on  the  ground  by  the  open  door  of  the 
coach. 

"Good  night,  Brad,"  he  said.  "Here's  where  I'm 
bound  for.  You've  got  a  five-minute  ride  or  so  more 
'fore  you  git  to  the  old  mai — that  is,  to  Prissy  and 
Tempy's.  I'll  see  you  to-morrer.  You  and  me's 
goin'  to  be  chums,  you  know." 

The  door  was  shut;  Mr.  Small  struck  up  "Camp- 
town  Races,"  and  the  stage  bumped  on  again.  This 
time  the  boy  did  not  sleep,  but,  holding  on  to  the 
strap,  tried  to  peer  through  the  snow-crusted  window. 
He  saw  a  light  here  and  there,  but  little  else.  After 
a  short  interval  the  coach  turned  a  sharp  corner, 
rolled  on  for  perhaps  twice  its  length,  and  then 
stopped. 

Mr.  Small  opened  the  door  and  Bradley,  looking 
past  him,  saw  the  side  of  a  large  house,  and  a  lighted 
doorway  with  two  female  figures,  one  plump  and  the 
other  slender,  standing  in  it.  From  behind  them 
the  lamplight  streamed  warm  and  bright  and  sent 
their  shadows  almost  to  his  feet. 

"Come  on,  bub,"  said  the  stage  driver,  "here's 
where  you  git  out.  Miss  Prissy,"  he  shouted,  "here's 
your  new  boarder." 


CHAPTER    II. 


THE  "OLD  MAIDS." 

RADLEY,  being  what  his  late  "Uncle" 
Solon"  had  called  a  "noticin*  boy,"  re- 
membered Captain  Titcomb's  hint  con- 
cerning the  foot  wiping,  and  his  first 
move,  after  crossing  the  Allen  thresh- 
old, was  to  rub  his  worn  brogans  thoroughly  on 
the  home-made  rope  mat.  After  one  glance  about 
the  big  dining-room,  however,  he  scoured  them 
again,  this  time  with  even  more  pains  and  attention 
to  detail. 

The  plump  woman,  whom  Mr.   Small   had  ad- 
dressed  as    "Miss  Prissy,"    was   counting   into   the 

20 


THE  "OLD  MAIDS"  21 

stage-driver's  palm  a  sum  in  small  change  from  a 
portentous  black  wallet  that  fastened  with  a  strap. 

"Forty-five  and  ten  is  fifty-five  and  five  is  sixty/' 
she  said,  "and  ten  is  seventy  and  five  in  pennies  is 
seventy-five.  There!  I  b'lieve  that's  right,  Mr. 
Small.  Would  you  mind  shutting  the  gate  when 
you  drive. out?  Mr.  Crosby  brought  us  a  load  of 
wood  this  afternoon,  and  I  told  him  he  needn't  shut 
it,  because  you  would  want  to  come  in  by  and  by.  But 
I  shouldn't  feel  easy  if  I  knew  it  was  open  all  night. 
Thank  you.  Good  night." 

"Good  night,"  said  the  driver,  pocketing  the 
money  with  a  grunt  and  a  jingle.  Like  the  boy,  he 
had  been  very  careful  not  to  step  off  the  mat.  "Good 
night,  Miss  Tempy.  Snow's  lettin'  up  a  little  mite; 
guess  'twill  be  clear  by  mornin'.  Good  night,  Brad." 

The  plump  lady  closed  the  door  behind  him,  just 
in  time  to  shut  out  the  opening  notes  of  the  "Sweet 
By  and  By."  Then  she  dropped  the  hook  into  the 
staple,  wound  the  leather  strap  carefully  about  the 
wallet,  placed  the  latter  in  a  compartment  of  a  tall 
chest  of  drawers  in  the  corner,  turned  the  key  upon 
it  and  put  the  key  under  the  alabaster  candlestick  on 
the  mantel.  Then  she  turned  to  the  boy,  who,  hold- 
ing his  carpet-bag  with  both  hands,  still  stood  un- 
easily on  the  mat,  while  the  slim  lady  fidgeted  in  front 
of  him. 

"Bradley,"  said  the  plump  lady — she  was  dressed 
in  some  sort  of  black  material  that  rustled,  and  wore 
a  lace  collar,  jet  earrings  and  a  breastpin  with  a 
braided  lock  of  hair  in  the  center  of  it — "Bradley, 


22  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

we're  real  glad  to  see  you.  I'm  Miss  Priscilla;  this 
is  my  sister,  Miss  Temperance." 

"Yes,  Bradley,"  coincided  "Miss  Tempy,"  "we're 
real  glad  to  see  you."  She  was  the  younger  of  the 
two,  and  was  gowned  in  what  the  boy  learned  later 
was  her  "brown  poplin."  Her  hair  was  not  worn 
plain,  like  her  sister's,  but  had  a  little  bunch  of  curls 
over  each  ear.  She  also  wore  a  hair  breastpin,  but 
her  earrings  were  gold. 

Bradley  shook  the  extended  hands,  Miss  Prissy 's 
red  and  dimpled,  and  Miss  Tempy's  thin  and  white 
with  two  old-fashioned  rings  on  the  fingers. 

"Won't  you — won't  you  set  down?"  ventured 
Miss  Tempy,  after  a  rather  awkward  pause. 

"Why,  yes,  of  course,"  said  Miss  Prissy,  "and 
take  your  things  right  off — do." 

Bradley  placed  the  carpet-bag  on  the  corner  of  the 
mat,  and  pulled  off  the  shabby  overcoat.  The  jacket 
and  trousers  beneath  were  also  shabby,  but  it  was  at 
his  shoes  that  Miss  Prissy  glanced  and,  oddly  enough, 
their  condition  served  to  break  the  formality. 

"My  goodness  me!"  she  ejaculated;  "jest  look  at 
his  poor  feet,  Tempy  Allen !  Come  right  over  to  the 
stove  this  minute  and  take  off  those  shoes;  they're 
soppin'  wet  through." 

"No,  ma'am,"  protested  the  boy.  "They  ain't, 
honest.  They  only  look  so." 

"Don't  tell  me!"  commanded  Miss  Prissy.  "Go 
right  over  to  the  stove  this  minute." 

Bradley  reluctantly  obeyed,  stepping  gingerly 
across  the  spotless  oilcloth,  and  taking  as  long  strides 


THE  "OLD  MAIDS"  23 

as  possible.  It  did  not  add  to  his  comfort  to  see 
Miss  Tempy  shake  the  melting  snow  into  the  center 
of  the  rope  mat,  fold  the  latter  carefully  together,  and 
disappear  with  it  into  the  kitchen. 

Miss  Prissy  piloted  him  to  the  chintz-covered 
rocker  by  the  big  "air-tight"  stove.  Then  she  pro- 
ceeded to  unlace  the  patched  brogans,  commenting 
in  an  undertone  upon  the  condition  of  the  stockings 
beneath. 

"I'm  'fraid,"  said  Bradley,  fearfully,  "that  I've 
got  some  snow  water  on  your  floor,  ma'am." 

"Don't  say  a  word!  Thank  goodness,  your  feet 
ain't  so  wet  as  I  thought  they  was.  Put  'em  right  on 
the  rail  of  the  stove  there,  while  I  go  up  to  the 
garret  and  get  those  slippers  of  father's.  I'll  be  right 
back." 

She  hurried  out  of  the  room,  just  as  her  sister  en- 
tered it  by  the  other  door. 

"Now  set  right  still,"  said  Miss  Tempy,  bustling 
about  with  the  steaming  teakettle  in  her  hand.  "I'm 
goin'  to  make  you  some  pepper  tea.  There's  noth- 
in'  in  the  world  like  pepper  tea  when  you're  likely  to 
catch  cold." 

"Pepper  tea"  was  a  new  prescription  for  the  boy, 
and  he  watched  with  interest  while  Miss  Tempy 
turned  some  milk  into  a  bowl,  flooded  it  with  boiling 
water,  added  a  spoonful  of  sugar,  and  vigorously 
shook  the  pepper  box  over  the  mess. 

"There !"  she  said.  "Now  drink  that,  every  drop. 
Ain't  you  hungry?" 

Bradley,  with  tears  in  his  eyes — the  result  of  the 


24  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

first  swallow  of  pepper  tea — gaspingly  protested  that 
he  wasn't  hungry — not  very.  The  sight  and  smell 
of  the  loaded  supper  table  were  so  tempting  that  the 
denial  was  rather  half-hearted. 

"Not  very!  When  did  you  have  anything  to  eat 
last?" 

"Mr.  Bartlett — he's  the  s'lectman  at  Wellmouth — 
gave  me  a  sandwich  at  the  depot  'fore  I  started, 
ma'am,  and  I  bought  a  turnover  at  Harniss." 

"My  sakes !  Prissy" — to  her  sister,  who  came 
rustling  in — "he  hasn't  et  a  thing  but  a  sandwich  and 
a  turnover  since  mornin'." 

"Land!"  was  Miss  Prissy's  comment.  She  pro- 
ceeded to  engulf  the  youngster's  feet  in  a  pair  of 
enormous  carpet  slippers,  the  knobs  and  hollows  un- 
der their  faded  roses  showing  where  the  toes  of  the 
late  Captain  Darius  had  found  lodging.  A  smell  of 
camphor  pervaded  the  room. 

"Oh,  don't  those  look  like  father!"  sighed  Miss 
Tempy.  "How  many  times  I've  seen  him  in  that 
very  rocker  with  those  slippers  on,  readin'  his  Item, 
and " 

"I'm  'fraid  they  ain't  a  very  good  fit,"  interrupted 
the  practical  Miss  Prissy.  "S'pose  they'll  stay  on?" 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  said  Bradley,  trying  to  be  agree- 
able; "they're  real  pretty,  with  flowers  on  'em  so." 

"Prissy  and  me  gave  those  to  father  the  second 
Christmas  before  he  died,"  observed  Miss  Tempy, 
reminiscently.  "He  used  to  say  he  got  so  much  com- 
fort out  of  'em.  Yes,  Prissy,  I  know.  Now  come 
right  over  to  the  table,  Bradley,  and  set  down." 


THE  "OLD  MAIDS"  25 

"What's  in  that  bowl?"  asked  her  sister,  sharply. 
"Tempy  Allen,  have  you  been  roastin'  that  poor 
child's  stomach  out  with  your  everlastin'  pepper  tea?" 

Miss  Tempy  drew  herself  up  indignantly.  "I 
should  think  you'd  be  ashamed  to  talk  so,  Prissy," 
she  said,  "after  you've  seen  what  pepper  tea's  done 
forme!" 

"Oh,  well !  'tain't  worth  makin'  a  fuss  about.  Now 
Bradley,  speak  right  out  if  there's  anything  you  want 
that  ain't  here,  won't  you?  We've  had  our  sup- 
per." 

Bradley  said  "Yes,  ma'am,"  obediently.  Privately 
his  firm  belief  was  that  every  eatable  in  Orham  was 
on  that  supper  table.  There  was  "marble  cake" — 
it  was  misnamed  so  far  as  its  texture  was  concerned — 
"two  egg"  cake  and  fruit  cake  from  the  tin  box  in 
the  parlor  closet.  There  was  "beach-plum"  pre- 
serve and  crab-apple  jelly,  and  barberries  preserved 
with  slices  of  sweet  apple.  For  substantiate,  milk 
toast  and  potted  spiced  mackerel  were  in  evidence. 
As  a  crowning  delicacy  there  was  a  wicker-covered 
Canton  china  jar  of  preserved  ginger. 

As  the  boy  ate  he  looked  about  the  room.  It  was 
a  big  room  with  a  low  ceiling,  spotlessly  whitewashed. 
The  oilcloth  on  the  floor  was  partially  covered  with 
braided  rag  mats  with  carpet  centres.  On  the  win- 
dow shades  were  wonderful  tinted  pictures  of  castles 
and  mountains.  The  table  was  black  walnut,  and 
there  were  five  rush-seated  chairs,  each  in  its  place 
against  the  wall,  and  looking  as  if  it  were  glued  there 
— the  sixth  of  the  set  he  occupied.  Then  there  was 


26  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

the  chintz-covered  rocker  and  another  rocker,  painted 
black  with  a  worn  picture  of  a  ship  at  sea  on  the  back. 
There  was  another  ship  over  the  face  of  the  tall 
wooden  clock  in  the  corner.  This  craft  was  evi- 
dently the  "Flying  Dutchman,"  for  every  time  the 
clock  ticked  it  rolled  heavily  behind  a  fence  of  tin 
waves,  but  didn't  advance  an  inch.  On  the  walls 
were  several  works  of  art,  including  a  spatter-work 
motto,  a  wreath  made  of  sea  shells  under  a  glass,  and 
an  engraving  showing  a  boat  filled  with  men,  women 
and  children  and  rowed  by  a  solemn  individual  in  his 
shirtsleeves,  moving  over  a  placid  sheet  of  water  to- 
ward an  unseen  port. 

"The  name  of  that  picture  is  'From  Shore  to 
Shore/  "  said  the  observant  Miss  Tempy.  "You  see 
there's  the  children  in  the  bow,  and  the  young  man 
and  his  lady-love  next,  and  the  father  and  mother 
next  to  them,  and  the  old  folks  in  the  stern.  It's  a 
beautiful  picture — so  much  deep  meanin'  in  it. 
There's  some  lovely  poetry  under  it  that  you  must 
read ;  all  about  the  voyage  of  life.  Help  yourself  to 
the  preserved  ginger,"  she  added.  "It  came  all  the 
way  from  Calcutta.  Father  used  to  bring  us  so  much 
of  it.  That  ginger-jar  looks  so  like  him." 

Bradley  began  to  think  that  the  parental  Allen 
must  have  been  a  queer-looking  old  gentleman.  Miss 
Tempy  continued : 

"Of  course,  father  didn't  bring  that  jar,"  she  said. 
"That  was  one  of  Cap'n  Titcomb's  presents.  He  got 
it  in  New  York." 

"Cap'n  Titcomb?"  repeated  the  boy,  whose  bash- 


THE  "OLD  MAWS"  27 

fulness  was  wearing  off.  "He  came  over  in  the  coach 
with  me  to-night." 

The  effect  of  this  announcement  was  remarka- 
ble. Miss  Prissy  looked  at  Miss  Tempy,  and  the 
latter  returned  the  look.  Strange  to  say,  both  col- 
ored. 

"Cap'n  Titcomb?"  faltered  Miss  Prissy.  "Cap'n 
Ezra  Titcomb?" 

"Yes,  ma'am.  He  talked  to  me  'most  all  the  way. 
I  liked  him  first  rate." 

"Why — why,  I  do  declare!  I  didn't  know  the 
Cap'n  was  expected,  did  you,  Tempy?" 

"No,  I'm  sure  I  didn't!"  exclaimed  the  flustered 
younger  sister.  "Did  he — did  he  tell  you  why  he 
was  comin',  Bradley?" 

"No,  ma'am,  but  I  heard  him  tell  the  man  that 
drove  the  coach  that  he  had  shore  leave  for  a  week, 
'cause  his  schooner  was  laid  up  for  repairs.  He  said 
he  knew  you,  though,  and  that  he  was  comin'  'round 
to  see  me  to-morrer." 

This  remark  caused  quite  as  much  embarrassment 
and  agitation  as  that  concerning  the  Captain's  pres- 
ence in  the  coach.  The  two  ladies  again  glanced  hur- 
riedly at  each  other. 

"Goodness  gracious!"  exclaimed  Miss  Prissy,  "and 
the  settin'-room  not  swept  and  the  windows  not 
washed.  I'll  have  to  get  up  early  to-morrer  mornin'. 
I'm  so  glad  I  fixed  that  ruffle  on  my  alpaca,"  she 
added,  in  an  absent-minded  soliloquy. 

"And  I  must  finish  that  tidy  for  the  sofy,"  said 
Miss  Tempy,  nervously.  "I've  only  got  a  little  more 


28  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

to  do  on  it,  thank  goodness!  Prissy,  I'm  going  to 
put  an  iron  on ;  I  want  to  press  my  other  collar.  Did 
— did  the  Cap'n  say  anything  more  about  me — us,  I 
mean  ?"  she  added,  looking  at  the  stove. 

"No,  ma'am,  he  didn't,"  replied  the  boy.  uHe 
jest  asked  about  me,  and  told  stories  and  talked." 

Miss  Tempy  seemed  a  little  disappointed  and  made 
no  comment.  Her  sister,  too,  was  silent.  Presently 
Bradley  yawned.  He  tried  to  hide  it,  but  Miss 
Prissy,  coming  out  of  her  trance,  saw  him. 

"My  sakes!"  she  exclaimed,  "what  are  we  thinkin' 
of,  keepin'  you  up  this  way?  It's  after  nine  o'clock. 
Let  me  get  the  lamp.  Tempy,  you  do  up  that  soap- 
stone  for  his  feet." 

She  rose  and  went  into  the  kitchen,  returning  with 
a  brass  hand  lamp,  while  her  sister  removed  the  orna- 
mental top  of  the  "air-tight"  and,  with  a  holder,  took 
out  a  hot  slab  of  soapstone,  which  she  proceeded  to 
wrap  in  several  thicknesses  of  flannel. 

When  this  operation  was  completed,  Miss  Prissy 
led  the  way  with  the  lamp,  and  the  boy,  doubling  up 
his  toes  to  keep  "father's"  slippers  on  his  feet,  scuf- 
flingly  followed  her  through  a  dark  hall,  up  a  steep 
staircase,  in  the  niche  by  the  first  landing  of  which  the 
model  of  a  full-rigged  ship,  sailing  under  a  glass  case 
through  a  sea  of  painted  putty,  caught  his  eye;  then 
through  another  hall,  cold  and  dark,  and  into  a  large, 
square  sleeping  room,  with  a  high  corded  bedstead 
in  the  centre. 

"This  is  your  room,  Bradley,"  she  said,  placing  the 
lamp  on  the  glass-knobbed  bureau.  "It's  pretty  cold, 


THE  "OLD  MAIDS"  29 

but  we've  aired  the  bed  so  there  won't  be  any  damp- 
ness and  the  soapstone'll  help  warm  up." 

She  turned  back  the  several  layers  of  patchwork 
comforters,  blankets  and  counterpane,  and  put  the 
hot  stone  in  the  centre  of  the  billowy  feather  bed. 
Then  she  fidgeted  about  in  an  embarrassed  sort  of  ; 
way,  and  finally  asked : 

"I — I  s'pose  you  brought  your  nightgown  with 
you?" 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  and  Bradley  produced  the  ragged 
relic  from  his  carpet  bag. 

Miss  Prissy  took  the  nightgear  between  her  finger 
and  thumb.  "My  soul !"  was  her  only  comment,  but 
its  tone  was  all-sufficient.  She  disappeared,  to  re- 
turn in  a  moment  or  two  with  a  folded  flannel  gar- 
ment in  her  hand. 

"Here's  one  of  father's,"  she  said.  "It'll  be  too 
big  for  you,  but  you  can  wear  it  for  two  or  three 
nights,  and  me  and  Ternpy'll  make  you  some  new 
ones.  Good  night." 

The  lamp  made  a  little  oasis  of  light  in  the  dusky 
desert  of  "spare  room."  There  were  two  or 
three  straight-backed  chairs  set  squarely  in  their 
places  on  the  ingrain  carpet ;  some  wax  flowers  under 
a  glass  on  the  shelf,  and  a  vase  of  dried  "feather 
grass"  on  a  bracket  in  the  corner.  And  everything, 
from  the  blue  bottles — intended  to  contain  toilet 
waters — in  the  centre  of  the  knitted  mats  on  the  bu- 
reau, to  the  gilt  candlesticks  with  the  dangling  glass 
prisms,  looked  as  if  they  had  been  just  where  they 


30  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

now  were  for  years  and  years,  and  would  resent  any 
intrusion  on  their  privacy. 

Bradley  undressed  in  a  hurry,  for  the  temperature 
of  the  room  was  like  that  of  the  Arctic  region.  The 
framed  daguerreotypes  on  the  walls — portraits  of 
wooden-faced  seafaring  gentlemen  in  black  stocks 
with  their  hair  curled  behind  their  ears,  and  of  ladies 
in  flowered  scoop  bonnets,  their  finger  rings  realistic- 
ally put  in  with  gilt  paint,  gazed  down  upon  him  with 
rigid  disapproval.  Even  after  he  had  lost  his  small 
self  in  Captain  Darius'  camphor-scented  legacy — the 
flannel  nightgown — and  was  floundering  in  the 
depths  of  the  feather  bed,  he  felt  that  the  pictured 
eyes  were  looking  at  him  through  the  dark  as  if  their 
owners  said,  indignantly,  uWhat  is  a  boy  doing 
here?" 

The  joists  creaked  overhead,  the  mice  scuffled  be- 
hind the  plaster,  the  surf  boomed  in  the  distance,  and 
the  winter  wind  whined  about  the  windows  as  if  it, 
too,  were  asking  "What  is  a  boy  doing  here?" 

He  was  up  early  the  next  morning,  and  his  dressing 
was  a  sort  of  jig,  for  it  was  freezing  cold.  From  his 
window  he  could  see  the  Orham  roofs  and  spires, 
white  and  sparkling  in  the  sunrise  light.  The  long 
hill  behind  the  house,  sloped,  a  snowy  stretch,  to  the 
inner  inlet,  which  was  filled  with  floating  ice  cakes. 
The  ocean  side  of  the  outer  beach  was  white  with  a 
dancing  line  of  breakers,  and  the  sea  itself  was  a  deep 
blue,  spangled  with  whitecaps. 

When  he  went  downstairs  it  was  evident  that 
things  had  been  going  on.  Miss  Prissy  came  out  of 


THE"OLD  MAIDS"  31 

the  sitting-room,  bearing  a  broom,  and  with  her  "al- 
paca" gown  covered  with  an  apron.  Miss  Tempy, 
her  curls  done  up  in  papers,  was  busy  with  the  "tidy" 
for  the  sofa.  Each  of  the  sisters  was  nervous  and 
excited. 

Miss  Prissy  said  a  stiff  little  grace  at  the  breakfast 
table.  Miss  Tempy  had  a  large  cup  of  "pepper  tea" 
for  herself,  and  urged  Bradley  to  partake,  but  the 
elder  sister  came  to  the  rescue  and  gave  him  hot  milk 
and  water  instead.  After  the  meal  was  over  and  the 
dishes  washed,  Miss  Prissy  went  out  to  feed  the  hens 
and  Bradley  went  with  her.  The  house,  seen  by  day, 
was  a  big,  square  building,  badly  in  need  of  paint. 
The  roof  was  four-sided  and  sloped  upward  to  a 
cupola  in  the  centre.  From  its  closely  shut  front 
door  snow-covered  box  hedges  in  parallel  lines  de- 
fined the  path  to  the  front  gate,  also  locked  and  fas- 
tened, and,  like  the  front  door,  only  used  on  occa- 
sions. There  was  a  large  tumble-down  barn,  with 
an  empty  pig-pen  back  of  the  house,  and  a  hen-house 
and  yard  in  the  rear  of  the  barn. 

Next  door,  to  the  left — on  the  right  was  a  vacant 
field — was  a  small  story  and  a  half  cottage,  separated 
from  the  Allen  household  by  a  board  fence.  One  of 
the  boards  in  this  fence  had  fallen  down,  and  as  Brad- 
ley, wading  in  Miss  Prissy's  wake,  passed  this  open- 
ing, he  saw  a  girl,  apparently  about  his  own  age,  open 
the  back  door  of  the  house  next  door  and  look  out  at 
him.  He  wanted  to  ask  who  she  was,  but  didn't  feel 
well  enough  acquainted  with  his  guide  to  do  so  just 
yet. 


32  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

Just  as  the  dozen  hens  and  lonesome-looking 
rooster  were  fed — Miss  Prissy  informed  him  that,  by 
and  by,  looking  after  the  poultry  would  be  one  of  his 
duties — Miss  Tempy's  voice  was  heard  calling  ex- 
citedly from  the  kitchen  door. 

"Prissy!"  she  screamed,  "Prissy!  come  in  the 
house  quick !  He's  comin' ;  the  Cap  Vs  comin'  1" 

"My  land!"  exclaimed  the  elder  sister,  wildly,  and, 
her  dignity  forgotten,  she  almost  ran  to  the  house, 
followed  by  Bradley,  who  didn't  understand  the  cause 
of  the  excitement. 

"Oh,  my  sakes!"  ejaculated  Miss  Tempy,  as  they 
entered  the  kitchen.  "What  made  him  come  so  early ! 
You'll  have  to  see  him  first,  Prissy.  I've  got  to  fix 
my  hair." 

Miss  Prissy  rushed  into  the  sitting-room,  wheeled 
a  chair  into  place,  set  a  tidy  straight,  laid  the  photo- 
graph album  exactly  in  the  center  of  the  table  instead 
of  two  inches  from  the  edge,  and  patted  her  own  hair 
with  her  hands,  dodging  in  front  of  the  big  gilt- 
framed  mirror  as  she  did  so.  Then,  as  a  smart  knock 
sounded  on  the  dining-room  door,  she  assumed  her 
"company"  smile  and  marched  sedately  to  receive  the 
visitor. 

It  was  Captain  Titcomb  who  had  knocked,  and, 
after  cleaning  the  snow  from  his  boots  on  the 
"scraper,"  he  entered  the  house,  bearing  two  pack- 
ages wrapped  in  brown  paper. 

"Well,  Prissy,"  said  the  Captain,  laying  down  the 
packages  to  shake  hands,  "how  d'you  do?  Didn't 
expect  to  see  me  in  this  port  jest  now,  did  you?" 


THE  "OLD  MAIDS"  33 

"No,  indeed,  Cap'n  Titcomb,"  was  the  reply.  "But 
we're  real  glad  to  see  you  all  the  same.  Come  right 
in.  Take  your  things  off.  Bradley  said  he  rode 
down  with  you  in  the  coach  last  night.  Dreadful 
storm  we  had,  wasn't  it?  How's  your  health 
nowadays?  Walk  right  into  the  sittin'-room.  You 
must  excuse  the  looks  of  things;  I've  been 
sweepin'." 

There  was  a  good  deal  more,  but  when  Miss  Prissy 
stopped  for  breath,  the  Captain,  who  had  thrown  his 
cap  and  overcoat  on  a  chair,  replied  that  the  storm 
was  bad,  that  his  health  was  good  and  that  the  room 
looked  "first  rate,"  so  far  as  he  could  see.  Then  he 
held  out  his  hand  to  the  boy,  who  had  seated  himself 
on  a  chair  close  to  the  door,  and  said,  cheerily  : 

"Mornin',  Brad.  Well,  how  are  you  after  your 
shake  up  last  night  ?  Wan't  seasick  after  I  got  out, 
was  you?" 

Bradley  grinned  bashfully  and  stammered  that  he 
was  "all  right." 

"Good!  We  had  a  rugged  trip  comin'  over, 
Prissy.  The  old  coach  rolled  so  I  felt  like  goin'  on 
deck  and  shortenin'  sail.  Your  new  boy  here's  goin' 
to  make  a  good  sailor — I  can  see  that.  Where's 
Tempy?" 

"Oh,  she's  upstairs  for  a  minute.  She'll  be  right 
down,"  answered  Miss  Prissy,  carelessly.  "Tell  me 
what  brought  you  home  so  unexpected." 

"Sprung  a  leak  and  had  to  lay  the  old  hooker  up 
for  repairs.  That's  a  specialty  of  my  owners — re- 
pairs. They'd  rather  patch  up  for  a  hundred  ye&rs 


34  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

than  build  new  vessels.  I — I — Brad,  fetch  me  them 
bundles  out  of  the  dinin'-room." 

Bradley  obediently  brought  the  brown-paper  par- 
cels, and  the  Captain  handed  one  of  them  to  Miss 
Prissy,  saying:  "Here's  a  little  somethin'  I  picked 
up  over  to  New  York,  Prissy.  I  thought  you  might 
like  it.  I  ain't  got  much  use  for  such  things,  myself." 

The  lady  took  the  package  and  began  to  untie  the 
string  in  a  nervous  manner,  blushing  a  little  as  she 
did  so. 

"I  know  it's  somethin1  nice,  Cap'n  Ezra.  You  do 
buy  the  nicest  things.  It's  real  kind  of  you  to  re- 
member me  this  way.  Oh!  ain't  that  pretty!" 

The  package  contained  a  Japanese  silk  fan,  with 
ivory  sticks  and  a  red  tassel.  Miss  Prissy  opened  it 
and  spread  it  out  in  her  lap,  exclaiming  over  its 
beauty,  her  face  the  color  of  the  tassel. 

"Oh!  it  ain't  nothin',"  said  the  Captain.  "I  did  a 
favor  for  a  friend  of  mine  that's  skipper  of  a  bark- 
entine  jest  home  from  Hong  Kong,  and  he  gave  it  to 
me.  He  had  some  stuff  he'd  brought  for  his  daugh- 
ter, and  the  duty  on  it  would  have  been  pretty  ex- 
pensive, so  I  fixed — but  never  mind  that.  I  thought 
maybe  you'd  like  it  to  carry  to  church  in  the  summer 
time,  or  somethin'.  Why,  hello,  Tempy!  How 
d'you  do?" 

The  younger  sister  entered  the  room,  her  "poplin" 
rustling  and  every  curl  in  place.  She  gushingly  shook 
the  Captain's  hand,  and  said  she  was  so  glad  to  see 
him. 

"Oh,  Tempy  I"  cred  Miss  Prissy,  "jest  look  at  this 


THE  "OLD  MAIDS"  35 

lovely  fan  Cap'n  Titcomb  brought  me.  Did  you  ever 
see  anything  so  pretty?" 

Miss  Tempy  exclaimed  over  the  fan,  but  somehow 
her  enthusiasm  seemed  a  little  forced.  It  may  be  the 
Captain  noticed  this;  at  any  rate,  he  picked  up  the 
second  parcel  and  handed  it  to  her,  saying: 

"Here's  a  little  somethin'  I  brought  for  you, 
Tempy.  I  don't  know's  you'll  like  it,  but " 

Miss  Tempy's  present  also  was  a  fan,  precisely 
like  the  other  except  that  the  tassel  was  pink.  Miss 
Prissy's  interest  in  her  sister's  gift  was  intense,  but 
when  it  was  discovered  that  in  no  important  point 
were  the  fans  dissimilar  and  that  neither  was  better 
than  its  mate,  both  of  the  ladies  appeared  to  be  a 
trifle  disappointed,  although  they  tried  not  to  show  it. 

"We're  so  glad  you've  come,  Cap'n,"  said  Miss 
Prissy,  after  the  fans  were  laid  on  the  table.  "We've 
got  so  many  things  to  talk  to  you  about,  and  we  want 
to  ask  your  advice.  Bradley,  don't  you  think  you'd 
like  to  go  out  into  the  dinin'-room  a  little  while?" 

The  boy,  acting  upon  this  decided  hint,  went  into 
the  dining-room,  and  Miss  Prissy  shut  the  door  after 
him. 

"Now,  Cap'n  Titcomb,"  she  began,  "I  s'pose  you 
were  awfully  surprised  to  hear  we'd  took  a  boy  to 
bring  up  ?  Well,  you  ain't  any  more  surprised  than 
we  are  to  think  we  should  do  such  a  thing.  But  it 
seemed  as  if  we  jest  had  to,  or  else  give  up  bein' 
Christians  altogether.  I'll  tell  you  how  it  was." 

And  she  did  tell  him,  beginning  with  the  exact  re- 
lationship between  Brr.dley's  mother  and  the  Aliens, 


36  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

expatiating  upon  the  shiftlessness  of  the  boy's  father 
and  how  he  "never  saved  a  cent,"  nor  even  took  out 
an  insurance  policy  to  provide  for  his  son,  in  case  of 
his  own  death. 

"Father,"  she  continued,  "lost  all  patience  with 
Ben  years  before  he  died  and  we  didn't  write  nor  any- 
thing. Fact  is,  we  didn't  know  about  the  boy  at  all, 
until  we  read  in  the  papers  about  Sophia  and  Ben's 
bein'  lost  when  his  vessel  was  wrecked.  Leavin'  the 
poor  little  chap  in  Solon  Nickerson's  care  was  another 
proof  of  Ben's  carelessness.  It's  wrong  to  speak  ill  of 
the  dead,  but  Solon  was  the  worst  good-for-nothin' ! 
It's  a  mercy  that  the  Lord  took  him  before  he'd 
had  a  chance  to  ruin  the  boy  entirely.  Well,  Tempy 
and  me  have  set  up  nights  and  talked  and  talked  and 
talked,  but  we  couldn't  see  but  one  right  thing  to  do, 
so  we  did  it.  But,  mercy  me !"  she  exclaimed,  lifting 
her  hands,  "what  on  earth  we'll  do  with  a  boy  is 
more'n  /  know.  What  shall  we  do?" 

"Bring  him  up  in  the  way  he  ought  to  go,  I  guess," 
replied  the  Captain,  calmly.  "Send  him  to  school, 
first  thing." 

"There,  Prissy!"  exclaimed  Miss  Tempy,  "that's 
what  /  said.  Send  him  to  school,  and  then  to  high 
school,  and  then  to  college.  Wesleyan  College  is  a 
nice  quiet  place,  and  so  many  ministers  come  from 
there  that  they'll  probably  teach  him  to  be  a  minister. 
Then,  by  that  time,  Mr.  Langworthy'll  be  pretty  old 
and  he'll  be  givin'  up  the  church  here  and  Bradley 
can  take  it.  I  always  wished  we  had  a  minister  in  the 
family." 


THE  "OLD  M4IDS"  37 

"Sakes  alive!"  snapped  her  sister,  impatiently, 
"seems  to  me  you're  countin'  your  chickens  a  good 
ways  ahead.  Mr.  Langworthy  might  die  to-morrer 
for  all  you  know,  or  the  society  might  bust  up  or 
'most  anything.  Besides,  it'll  cost  somethin'  for  all 
that  education." 

"Of  course  it  will,"  said  Miss  Tempy,  "but  there's 
father's  insurance  money." 

"How  long  do  you  think "  began  Miss  Prissy, 

but  stopped  in  the  middle  of  the  sentence. 

"Well,"  said  Captain  Titcomb,  diplomatically, 
"he'll  go  to  school  for  a  while,  at  any  rate,  and  he 
might  as  well  begin  right  away.  How  is  he  off  for 
clothes?"  he  added. 

"Hasn't  got  any  that  are  fit  for  anything  but  the 
rag-bag,"  replied  Miss  Prissy,  with  decision.  "And 
that's  another  thing.  Who's  goin'  to  buy  'em  for 
him?  I'm  sure  /  don't  know  what  a  boy  needs 
to  wear  any  more  than  a  cat.  And  he's  got 
to  have  everything.  I  jest  wish  you'd  have  seen 
that — that  thing  he  was  goin'  to  sleep  in,"  she 
added. 

"I'll  buy  his  fit-out,  if  you  want  me  to,"  said  the 
Captain.  "Take  him  down  to  Weeks'  store  right 
now,  if  you  say  the  word." 

"Oh!  I  wish  you  would.  You  pay  Mr.  Weeks 
and  I'll  pay  you." 

"Get  him  nice  clothes,  Cap'n  Ezra,"  said  Miss 
Tempy.  "The  men  in  our  family  have  always  been 
good  dressers." 

"Get  sensible  ones  that'll  wear,"  said  the  practical 


3 8  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

Miss  Prissy.     "Not  any  more  expensive  than  is  neces- 
sary, but  good." 

They  pressed  the  Captain  to  stay  to  dinner,  or,  at 
leasr,  to  return  for  that  meal,  but  he  declined,  prom- 
ising, however,  to  dine  with  them  before  he  went  back 
to  his  vessel. 

"Come  on,  Brad,"  he  said,  entering  the  dining- 
room,  "you  and  me's  goin'  on  a  cruise  down  town. 
Want  to  go?" 

Of  course  the  boy  wanted  to  go.  He  had  been 
spending  his  time  in  the  dining-room  reading  the 
poetry  beneath  the  "Shore  to  Shore"  picture  and  in 
spelling  out  the  framed  certificate  over  the  mantel, 
which  testified  that  "Darius  Allen,  Master,"  was  a 
member  of  the  Boston  Marine  Society. 

Bradley  put  on  the  shabby  overcoat  and  cap  for 
the  last  time,  and  walked  down  to  the  back  gate  and 
along  the  sidewalk  with  the  Captain. 

"Well,  Brad,"  said  the  latter,  "how  do  you  like 
your  new  folks?" 

"First  rate,  sir,"  said  the  boy. 

"Pretty  old-fashioned  craft,  but  seaworthy,  both 
of  'em.  Did  you  remember  to  wipe  your  feet?"  he 
added,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye. 

"Yes,  sir." 

They  walked  on  without  speaking  for  a  while,  then 
Bradley,  wishing  to  please  his  companion,  said: 

"Those  fans  were  awful  pretty.  I  s'pose  you 
brought  'em  both  alike  so  Miss  Prissy  nor  Miss 
Tempy  wouldn't  think  you  liked  one  more  than  the 
other,  didn't  you  ?" 


THE  "OLD  MAIDS"  39 

Captain  Titcomb  stopped  short,  and  looked  down 
at  the  lad  with  wonder  in  his  face. 

"Say,  Brad  I"  he  exclaimed,  uhow  old  are  you?" 

"Coin'  on  thirteen,  sir." 

"Coin*  on  thirteen,"  repeated  the  Captain,  slowly. 

"Coin'  on  thir Well,  by  crimustee !  you've  got 

a  head  on  you.  If  you're  goin'  to  turn  so  sharp 

as Say,  son,  I  cal'late  you  and  me  was  cut  out 

to  sail  together." 

He  continued  to  mutter  to  himself  and  to  chuckle 
all  the  way  to  the  store,  greatly  to  Bradley's  aston- 
ishment, for,  for  the  life  of  him,  the  boy  couldn't 
see  that  he  had  said  anything  so  wonderfully  brilliant. 

And,  meanwhile,  Miss  Tempy  seated  in  the  rocker 
by  the  window  and  holding  a  fan  in  each  hand,  was 
examining  them  with  the  greatest  care. 

"Prissy,"  she  said,  at  last,  in  a  solemn  tone, 
"they're  jest  exactly  alike." 

"Yes,"  said  her  sister,  with  a  stifled  sigh,  "they're 
jest  alike." 


CHAPTER    III. 

THE  "DOG  GIRL/' 

N  "Weeks'  Store"  was  to  be  found  an  assort- 
ment of  wares  ranging  from  potatoes  and 
razors  to  molasses  and  ladies'  dress  goods. 
Somewhere  within  this  extensive  range  was  a 
limited  supply  of  what  Mr.  Weeks'  advertise- 
ment in  the  Item  called,  "Youths',  Men's  and 
Children's  Clothing  in  Latest  Styles  at  Moderate 
Prices."  The  styles  were  ulate" — about  a  year  late — 
and  the  prices  were  moderate  when  the  lengthy  period 
of  credit  given  to  customers  is  taken  into  considera- 
tion. 

Captain  Titcomb,  exchanging  greetings  with  the 

4.0 


THE  "DOG  GIRL"  41 

half  dozen  loungers  by  the  stove,  whose  business 
there  was,  as  Mr.  Weeks  himself  said,  "to  swap  bad 
tobacco  smoke  for  heat/*  passed  to  the  rear  of  the 
store,  followed  by  Bradley.  There  he  proceeded  to 
select  an  entire  outfit  for  the  boy,  calculated  to  clothe 
him  in  successive  layers,  from  the  skin  outward. 
When  the  pile  of  garments  on  the  counter  was  com- 
plete, the  captain  and  Mr.  Weeks  entered  into  a 
lengthy  argument  concerning  pi-ice.  There  was  a 
"Sunday  hat"  involved  in  the  transaction,  and  about 
this  piece  of  headgear  the  battle  raged  fiercest. 

"It's  too  much  money,  Caleb,"  said  the  Captain, 
finally.  "I  guess  I'll  try  the  'New  York  Store.'  Tom 
Emery's  always  treated  me  fair  enough,  and  I'll  give 
him  a  chance.  Come  on,  Brad." 

"I'll  take  off  a  quarter  on  the  suit,"  conceded  the 
storekeeper,  who  was  loth  to  see  so  much  custom  go- 
to a  rival. 

"No,"  was  the  reply.  "That  ain't  enough  to 
amount  to  anything.  Tell  you  what  I'll  do,  Caleb. 
Throw  in  that  Sunday  hat  and  I'll  take  the  lot  and 
pay  you  cash  for  it,  and  run  my  risk  of  gittin'  the 
money." 

So  the  bargain  was  concluded  on  that  basis.  Brad- 
ley retired  to  the  back  room,  and  emerged  clothed  in 
his  new  garments  and  tremendously  conscious  of  the 
fact.  The  Captain  said  he  looked  so  fresh  that  you 
could  "smell  the  paint  on  him." 

"Say,  Caleb,"  said  "Squealer"  Wixon,  after  Cap- 
tain Titcomb  and  his  protege  had  left  the  premises, 
"did  Ez  tell  you  who  that  boy  was  ?" 


42  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

"No,  he  didn't.  I  hinted  two  or  three  times,  but 
he  wouldn't  say." 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you.  Twas  the  old  maids1  boy- 
Ben  Nickerson's  son.  Barney  said  he  brought  him 
over  in  the  coach  last  night." 

"You  don't  mean  it!"  exclaimed  the  chopf alien 

Mr.  Weeks.  "Well,  if  that  ain't  enough  to 

Ez  made  me  throw  in  a  hat  that  was  wuth  a  dollar  V 
a  ha'f  'cause  he  said  he'd  pay  cash  for  everything  and 
take  his  chance  of  gittin'  his  money  back.  And  Prissy 
and  Tempy  always  pay  cash  for  everything.  Reg'lar 
Titcomb  trick!" 

The  loafers  about  the  stove  roared  with  de- 
light. 

"Oh,  I  tell  you,"  remarked  "Squealer,"  "you Ve  got 
to  keep  your  weather  eye  peeled  when  you're  dealin' 
with  Cap'n  Ez.  He'll  have  you,  head  and  scales,  if 
you  ain't  careful." 

"That's  all  right,"  grumbled  "Bluey"  Bacheldor, 
"but  he'll  git  fetched  up  all  standin'  some  of  these 
days.  You  can  call  him  smart  if  you  want  to,  but 
it's  pretty  risky  smartness,  most  folks  think.  You 
notice  his  schooner's  always  makin'  'record  trips,'  and 
he's  always  havin'  presents  give  him,  and  all  that. 
How  many  presents  did  you  have  give  to  you,  Cap'n 
Jabez,  when  you  was  runnin'  a  coaster?" 

"Not  a  one,"  indignantly  replied  the  person  ad- 
dressed, Captain  Jabez  Bailey.  "Not  a  one.  What 
I  got  I  had  to  work  for." 

It  may  be  that  Captain  Jabez  overworked  during 
his  sea  experiences.  Certainly  no  one  in  Orham  had 


THE  "DOG  GIRL"  43 

known  him  to  do  a  stroke  of  work  since  he  retired  to 
live  on  his  wife's  earnings  as  a  dressmaker. 

"Well,"  commented  Captain  Eri  Hedge,  who  was 
not  a  member  of  the  circle,  but  had  dropped  in  to  buy 
some  tobacco,  "I  like  Cap'n  Ez.  He  does  love  to 
git  the  best  of  a  bargain,  and  he's  a  'driver'  on  a  ves- 
sel, and  perhaps  he  likes  to  shave  the  law  pretty  close 
sometimes.  Ez  is  a  reg'lar  born  gambler  for  takin' 
chances,  but  I  never  knew  him  to  do  a  mean  trick." 

"What  do  you  call  that  game  he  put  up  on  the  old 
maids?"  asked  "Squealer."  "You  knew  'bout  that, 
didn't  you,  Jabez  ?  Seems  Prissy  and  Tempy  wanted 
to  sell  that  little  piece  of  cranb'ry  swamp  of  theirs, 
'cause  it  didn't  pay  them  to  take  care  of  it  and  keep 
it  in  shape.  Prissy  told  Seth  Wingate  about  it  and 
Seth  said  he  didn't  want  it,  but  that  he'd  give  'em 
so  and  so — a  fair  price,  consid'rin'.  Well,  they  was 
goin'  to  sell  it  to  Seth,  but  Ez  comes  home  'bout  that 
time,  hears  of  the  deal  and  goes  to  Prissy  and  buys  it 
for  fifty  dollars  more'n  Seth  offered.  And  inside  of 
three  months  along  comes  that  Ostable  Company  and 
buys  all  that  land  for  their  big  swamp.  They  say 
Titcomb  made  more'n  a  hundred  dollars  out  of  that 
deal.  If  you  don't  think  that's  a  mean  trick,  Cap'n 
Eri,  you  ask  Seth  Wingate  what  he  thinks  of  it." 

"I  know  about  that,"  said  Captain  Eri,  calmly; 
"and  I  think  it  was  jest  another  case  of  Ez's  takin' 
chances,  that's  all.  Seth's  growlin'  is  only  sour 
grapes.  Ez  knew  the  Ostable  folks  was  talkin'  'bout 
layin'  out  a  big  swamp  over  here  some  time  or  other. 
He  jest  bought  the  Allen  piece  and  run  his  risk.  You 


44  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

fiotice  Prissy  and  Tempy  ain't  findin'  no  fault.  They 
think  he's  the  only  man  in  town.  Fact  is,  he  is  the 
only  man,  outside  of  the  minister,  that  they'll  have 
any  dealin's  with.  Queer  pairin'  off  that  is — Ez  and 
the  minister!"  he  chuckled. 

"Oh,  women's  fools,  anyhow,"  snorted  Captain 
Jabez,  savagely.  "Ez  Titcomb  always  could  wind 
*em  'round  his  fingers.  He's  been  next  door  to  keep- 
in'  comp'ny  with  more  girls'n  a  few  in  this  town 
sence  he  was  old  enough  to  leave  school.  But  he 
don't  go  fur  enough  to  git  engaged  or  nothin'  like 
that.  Minute  there's  any  talk  that  he's  likely  to  git 
married  to  one  of  'em,  away  goes  Ez,  and  that's  the 
end  of  that  courtin'.  And  yet,  spite  of  their  talk 
'bout  his  bein'  slick,  and  hints  that  he's  tricky,  they're 
•always  heavin'  up  to  a  feller,  'How  smart  Cap'n  Tit- 
comb  is,'  and  'Why  don't  you  make  money  same  as 
Cap'n  Ezry  ?'  'Nough  to  make  an  honest  man  sick." 

Captain  Eri  made  his  purchases  and  went  home, 
but  the  others  continued  to  dissect  Ezra  Titcomb's 
character,  and  the  general  opinion  seemed  to  be  that 
he  would  "bear  watchin'." 

Meanwhile  the  Captain,  unconscious  of  all  this, 
piloted  Bradley  to  the  corner  of  the  road  upon  which 
the  Allen  sisters  lived,  and  there  left  him  with  a  mes- 
sage to  the  effect  that  he — the  Captain — would  call 
next  day.  Then  he  sought  his  room  at  the  "Travel- 
er's Rest,"  there  to  read  the  paper  of  the  day  before; 
while  the  boy,  with  his  big  bundle  of  old  clothes  and 
new  "extras,"  walked  homeward  alone. 


THE  "DOG  GIRL"  4$ 

The  Allen  house  was  on  the  "lower  road,"  and  to 
reach  it  you  turned  the  corner  just  above  "Web" 
Saunders'  billiard  room  and  went  on  past  "Lem" 
Mullett's  stable,  and  the  Methodist  "buryin'  ground" 
—the  sects  in  Orham  cannot,  apparently,  agree  even 
after  they  are  dead,  for  each  denomination  has  its 
separate  cemetery — past  the  late  Captain  Saunders' 
estate  and  on  up  the  hill  overlooking  the  bay.  Brad- 
ley had  just  reached  the  little  house  next  door  to  the 
Aliens,  when,  through  the  side  gate  of  its  yard,  there 
darted  a  small,  ragged-looking  dog,  barking  as  if  it 
went  by  steam.  It  was  followed  by  a  big  dog,  also 
barking,  and  this  in  turn  was  followed  by  another 
and  still  another.  None  of  the  animals  was  hand- 
some and  none  looked  as  if  it  was  good  for  much 
except  to  bark,  but  each  seemed  to  feel  that  it  was  its 
special  duty  to  devour  the  boy  before  the  others  got  a 
chance  at  him.  'On  they  came,  a  noisy  procession, 
growling  and  snapping. 

Bradley  put  down  his  bundle  and  looked  about  for 
a  stone,  but  the  snow  covered  the  road  and  there  were 
no  stones  in  sight.  He  poised  himself  on  one  foot 
and  held  the  other  ready  for  a  kick.  The  dogs- 
formed  a  circle  about  him  and  the  racket  was  blood- 
curdling. 

Out  of  the  gate  darted  a  slim  girl  in  a  red  dress, 
brandishing  a  broom. 

"They  won't  hurt  you !"  she  screamed,  running  to 
the  rescue.  "Stop  it,  Peter!  Be  quiet,  Rags!  Go 
home,  Tuesday!  Winfield,  I'll  give  it  to  you!" 

The  dogs  dodged  the  broom  and  retired  to  a  safe 


46  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

distance,  wagging  their  tails  and  doing  their  best  to 
indicate  that  they  were  only  making  believe,  anyhow. 
"Winfield,"  the  small  dog  that  had  led  the  attack, 
was  the  most  persistent,  and  he  snapped  at  the  broom 
in  high  glee,  evidently  considering  that  it  was  waved 
for  his  particular  amusement. 

"They  got  away  before  I  could  stop  'em,"  panted 
the  girl.  "Grandma's  gone  to  the  store  and  I  went 
out  in  the  woodshed  to  play  with  'em,  and  they 
bounced  out  of  the  door  first  thing.  They  don't 
mean  anything;  they're  just  full  of  it,  that's  all." 

"I  wasn't  scared,"  said  Bradley.  "I  didn't  believe 
they'd  bite.  I  like  dogs." 

"Do  you?"  said  the  girl,  eagerly.  "So  do  I. 
Grandma  says  she  does,  too,  in  moderation.  The 
old  maids  don't,  though.  Oh,  I  forgot.  You're  the 
old  maids'  boy,  ain't  you?  I  saw  you  out  in  their 
yard  with  Miss  Prissy  this  mornin'." 

"Yes,  I  saw  you,  too.  You  live  in  here,  don't 
you?" 

"Um-hum.  Oh,  ray  goodness !  I  haven't  got  any 
rubbers  on,  and  grandma  said  if  I  got  my  feet  wet 
to-day  she  didn't  know  but  she'd  skin  me.  I  must 
go  right  back  and  dry  'em  before  she  comes.  I've 
had  a  cold;  that's  why  I  ain't  to  school.  How'll 
I  ever  get  these  dogs  in?" 

"I'll  help  you  if  you  want  me  to,"  volunteered 
Bradley. 

"Will  you?     That's  splendid.     Come  on!" 

Bradley  carried  his  bundle  to  the  back  steps  of  the 
little  house  and  then  returned  to  assist  at  the  dog- 


THE  "DOG  GIRL"  47 

catching.  It  wasn't  an  easy  operation,  but  a  tin  dish, 
scientifically  rattled  by  his  new  acquaintance,  tempted 
all  but  the  wary  "Winfield,"  and  a  bone  finally  de- 
coyed the  latter  inside  the  woodshed,  and  the  door 
was  slammed  and  bolted  upon  the  humbugged  pack. 

"There!"  exclaimed  the  girl,  "that's  all  right.  I 
hope  grandma  won't  notice  the  tracks  in  the  snow. 
If  she's  only  forgot  her  glasses  it's  all  right.  Now 
come  into  the  kitchen  till  I  put  my  feet  in  the  oven. 
What's  your  name  ?" 

"Bradley  Nickerson.     Most  folks  call  me  Brad.'* 

"That's  a  good  name.  My  last  name's  Baker.  I 
hate  my  first  one — it's  Augusta.  Ain't  that  the 
worst?  Grandma  calls  me  'Gusty.'  Ugh !  You  can 
call  me  'Gus'  if  you  want  to;  it  sounds  more  like  a 
boy's  name.  I  wish  I  was  a  boy." 

"Why?" 

"Oh,  because  a  boy  can  do  things,  and  doesn't  have 
to  be  'ladylike.'  If  I  was  a  boy  nobody  would  think 
it  was  funny  for  me  to  like  dogs,  and  I  could  have  as 
many  as  I  wanted." 

"I  should  think  you  had  a  good  many  now. 
Where  did  you  get  'em  all?" 

"Oh,  just  found  'em.  Rags  came  here  one  day 
himself.  I  call  him  Rags  because  he  looks  as  if  he' 
was  all  ravellin's.  And  Peter,  the  blacksmith  gave 
to  me.  Said  I  could  have  him  if  I'd  get  him  out  of 
his  sight.  He  sort  of  named  himself.  And  Tues- 
day was  named  that  because  I  found  him  on  Tuesday 
when  I  was  on  a  picnic  over  to  East  Harniss.  And 
Winfield — he's  the  newest  one — came  on  Cap'n  Bur- 


48  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

gess'  fishing  schooner  and  nobody  wanted  him,  so  they 
gave  him  to  me.  I  named  him  Winfield  because  his 
face  looks  like  our  school-teacher — Winfield  Scott 
Daniels;  hateful  old  thing!  Wouldn't  he  be  mad 
if  he  knew  I  named  a  dog  after  him !  You're  goin' 
to  school,  ain't  you?" 

"I  s'pose  so.  They  haven't  said  anything  about 
it  yet." 

"I  hope  you  will.     You'll  be  upstairs,  of  course." 

"Upstairs"  means,  in  Orham,  the  grammar  and 
higher  grades.  uDownstairs"  is  the  primary  depart- 
ment. Bradley  answered  that  he  supposed  he  should 
be  "upstairs."  He  was  just  beginning  to  go  "up- 
stairs" in  Wellmouth. 

"How  do  you  like  the  old  maids — Miss  Prissy  and 
Tempy,  I  mean.  Ain't  they  awful  strict?" 

"I  don't  know;  I  haven't  been  with  'em  long 
enough  to  find  out.  They're  mighty  clean,  ain't 
they?" 

"Oh,  dreadful!  And  they  don't  like  a  noise  and 
they  don't  like  dogs  and  they  don't  like  me.  They 
call  me  the  'dog  girl' ;  I  heard  'em.  One  time  I  went 
in  there  for  grandma,  and  Tuesday  and  Peter  fol- 
lowed me  and,  first  thing  you  know,  they  tracked  mud 
all  over  the  dinin'-room.  My!  but  wasn't  Miss  Prissy 
mad!  But  you  just  ought  to  have  seen  that  floor," 
she  chuckled. 

Bradley  thought  of  the  spotless  oilcloth  and  ap- 
preciated the  situation.  In  the  course  of  the  conver- 
sation that  followed,  he  learned  that  Gus  was  an 
orphan  like  himself,  and  that  she  lived  there  alone 


THE  "DOG  GIRL"  49 

with  her  grandmother.  Suddenly  the  girl  snatched 
her  steaming  shoes  out  of  the  oven  to  run  to  the 
window. 

"I  thought  I  heard  the  gate  shut,"  she  exclaimed. 
"Yes,  it's  grandma.  P'raps  you'd  better  dodge  out 
of  the  other  door.  She'll  ask  questions  and  find  out 
about  my  feet  if  you  don't.  Good-by;  p'raps  I'll  see 
you  at  school  to-morrow." 

Bradley  picked  up  his  bundle — he  had  brought  it 
in  with  him — and  slipped  out  of  the  side  door,  pre- 
senting himself,  a  moment  later,  in  the  glory  of  his 
new  clothes,  to  the  critical  gaze  of  the  uold  maids." 

And  it  was  critical.  For  the  next  twenty  minutes 
the  boy  sympathized  with  the  wooden  gentleman  with 
the  beautiful  painted  mustache  whose  business  it  was 
to  stand  before  the  "general  store"  at  Wellmouth, 
with  a  placard  attached  to  his  coat  bearing  the  words, 
"This  style  $8.50."  He  stood  in  the  centre  of  the 
dining-room  while  the  sisters  walked  in  a  circle  about 
him  and  verbally  picked  him  to  pieces,  bit  by  bit. 
Miss  Prissy's  final  verdict  was  that  the  garments  were 
"real  neat  and  sensible."  Miss  Tempy  was  not  so 
enthusiastic. 

"They  are  nice  and  neat,"  she  said,  "but  don't  you 
think  they  might  be  a  little  more  stylish?  Blue's  a 
nice  solid  color  for  the  jacket,  but  if  he  had  some  dif- 
f  rent  pants,  seems  to  me  'twould  set  it  off  more.  You 
remember  those  plaid  pants  of  father's,  don't  you, 
Prissy?  Still,  I  s'pose  the  Cap'n  knows  best." 

"Of  course  he  does,"  replied  her  sister,  crisply. 
"There  isn't  a  nicer-dressed  man  than  Cap'n  Titcomb 


50  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

around — that  is,  except  the  doctor  and  Mr.  Lang- 
worthy,  and  they  have  to  wear  Sunday  clothes  all  the 
time.  Besides,  we  cajn  make  over  some  of  father's 
things  for  him,  by  and  by,  if  we  want  to." 

So  Miss  Tempy  expressed  herself  as  satisfied.  As 
a  final  aristocratic  touch,  she  brought  from  the  trunk 
in  the  garret  a  large-figured  silk  handkerchief  which, 
tucked  carefully  into  the  breast  pocket  of  Bradley's 
jacket,  with  the  corner  artistically  draped  outside,  was 
pronounced  "just  the  thing." 

At  half-past  four  that  afternoon  the  sisters  con- 
voyed the  new  member  of  their  household  to  the 
boarding  place  of  the  school-teacher,  Mr.  Daniels,  in 
order  to  arrange  for  the  boy's  entering  school  next 
day. 

This  expedition  was  a  very  formal  affair.  Both 
of  the  ladies  were  arrayed  in  their  best,  with  bonnets 
that  were  the  height  of  fashion  ten  years  before,  and 
"dolmans"  that  Miss  Tempy  "made  over"  religiously 
each  fall.  Miss  Prissy,  the  business  manager,  in- 
spected every  window  and  door  to  be  sure  they  were 
locked,  and  she  carried  with  her  a  large  carpet-bag — 
much  like  Bradley's — the  sole  contents  of  which  were 
three  extra  handkerchiefs,  the  back-door  key  and  the 
wallet  with  the  leather  strap.  Mr.  Daniels  received 
them  graciously,  and  condescended  to  say  that  he 
should  expect  the  new  pupil  the  following  morning. 

When  Bradley  started  for  school  the  next  day  his 
head  was  ringing  with  instructions  from  the  "old 
maids"  concerning  his  behavior  and  attention  to  his 
studies. 


THE  "DOG  GIRL"  51 

"Now  be  a  good  boy,  Bradley,"  said  Miss  Prissy. 

"Yes,  Bradley,"  said  Miss  Tempy.  "Remember, 
we  expect  a  great  deal  of  you.  All  our  people  have 
been  smart  scholars." 

Just  as  he  turned  into  the  "main  road,"  he  heard 
someone  calling,  and  turned  to  see  his  acquaintance 
of  yesterday,  the  girl  next  door,  running  to  catch  up, 
her  hood  slipped  back  from  her  hair  and  a  dented  tin 
pail  in  her  hand.  Being  a  girl,  Gus  carried  her  noon 
luncheon  during  the  winter  months,  instead  of  coming 
home  to  eat  it. 

"Oh!"  she  panted,  "I'm  all  out  of  breath.  I  saw 
you  go  past  the  house  and  knew  you  was  goin'  to 
school,  so  I  just  fairly  flew  after  you.  You're  goin' 
upstairs,  aren't  you?  Did  you  see  old  Daniels?" 

"Yes,  I  saw  him.  He's  a  cross-lookin'  chap.  Is 
he  strict?" 

"You  bet  he  is !  Give  you  checks  if  you  whisper, 
and  ten  checks  means  stay  in  recess  for  a  week.  I've 
only  got  five  so  far.  Don't  you  think  he  looks  like 
Winfield — my  dog,  I  mean  ?  I  had  such  a  time  with 
that  dog  just  now.  He  was  following  me  and  I  had 
to  drive  him  back.  He  went  under  the  shed  and  hid, 
but  goodness  knows  how  long  he'll  stay  there." 

On  the  way  to  school  they  met  another  girl  whom 
Gus  introduced  as  Clara  Hopkins,  a  "chum"  of  hers. 
"She's  tip-top;  I  sit  with  her.  She's  got  'most  as 
many  checks  as  I  have,"  was  her  recommendation. 

"Upstairs"  at  the  schoolhouse  was  a  large  room 
with  rows  of  double  desks  on  each  side  and  a  wide 
aisle  in  the  centre.  One  side  of  the  aisle  was  the 


52  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

"girls'  side,"  and  the  other  was  for  the  boys.  Mr. 
Daniels  stiffly  shook  hands  with  the  new  scholar, 
asked  him  some  questions  concerning  his  progress  in 
his  studies,  and  showed  him  where  he  should  sit.  The 
more  advanced  pupils  occupied  the  desks  at  the  rear 
of  the  room,  and  the  younger  ones — Bradley  among 
them — sat  in  front.  Bradley's  seat  mate  was  an 
older  boy  than  he,  rather  good-looking,  with  curly 
hair.  His  name,  so  he  whispered  before  school  be- 
gan, was  Sam  Hammond. 

"We  will  come  to  order,"  commanded  Mr.  Dan- 
iels, with  dignity.  "Position!" 

Each  scholar  folded  his  or  her  arms  and  sat  back 
in  the  seat. 

"I  will  read,"  said  the  teacher,  "from  the  Scrip- 
tures." 

He  did  so,  concluding  as  follows:  "Amen.  Sec- 
ond class  in  spelling." 

The  second  class  in  spelling  took  its  place  upon  the 
settees  at  the  rear  of  the  room  and  proceeded  to  spell 
words  as  given  out  by  Mr.  Daniels,  following  each 
spelling  by  a  definition  and  a  sentence  containing  the 
word.  One  tall,  gawky  chap  with  red  hair  was  given 
the  word  "Aspire." 

"Aspire,"  he  shouted.  "A-s-p-i-r-e,  Aspire — to 
aim.  The  man  will  aspire  the  gun  at  the 
bird." 

The  school  tittered,  and  Mr.  Daniels  pounded  his 
desk  with  the  ruler.  "Ye-es,"  he  drawled,  with  with- 
ering sarcasm,  "that  is  delightful.  What  a  shock  for 
the  bird!" 


THE  "DOG  GIRL"  53 

"It  said  it  meant  'to  aim  high'  in  the  dictionary," 
protested  the  red-haired  one. 

"The  dictionary  is  intended  to  be  used  by  human 
beings,  not  calves,"  was  the  crushing  reply.  "Sit 
down,  Bossy." 

The  tall  boy  sat  down  with  alacrity,  while  the 
school  shouted  at  the  official  joke. 

"Bossy !"  whispered  Bradley's  seat  mate.  "That's 
Tim  Bloomer.  Ain't  he  a  sculpin?" 

"Samuel  Hammond,"  observed  Mr.  Daniels,  "two 
checks  for  whispering." 

At  recess  Bradley  went  out  on  the  playground  for 
a  little  while,  but  he  felt  rather  lonesome  among  so 
many  strangers,  and  so  returned  to  the  schoolroom. 
It  was  empty,  the  teacher  taking  his  customary  "con- 
stitutional" in  the  yard.  After  a  few  minutes  Gus 
came  bounding  in. 

"Why,  Brad !"  she  exclaimed,  "where've  you  been? 
I've  been  lookin'  for  you.  Why  didn't  you  come  on 
out?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  replied  the  boy.  "I  don't 
know  any  of  the  fellers  yet." 

"Well,  you're  goin'  to  know  'em.  Oh,  my  good- 
ness !  Winfield!" 

The  stub-tailed  dog  sat  panting  at  her  feet,  three 
inches  of  red  tongue  hanging  from  its  mouth. 

"You  naughty,  naughty  dog!"  cried  Gus,  almost 
in  tears.  "How  dare  you !  Go  home  this  minute  !" 

"Go  home,  Winfield!"  commanded  Bradley,  com- 
ing to  the  rescue. 

Winfield  had  gone  home  by  the  shed  route,  already 


54  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

that  morning,  and  didn't  propose  to  do  it  again. 
When  his  mistress  tried  to  catch  him,  he  retreated  to 
a  safe  distance  and  wagged  his  tail. 

"Oh,  what  shall  we  do?"  wailed  Gus.  "Recess  is 
'most  over,  and  if  Mr.  Daniels  finds  him  here,  I  don't 
know  what'll  happen!" 

Bradley  made  a  dash  at  the  dog  and  the  latter 
Started  on  the  run  about  the  room.  At  length  they 
drove  him  out  the  "boys'  door"  only  to  have  him 
reappear  through  the  "girls'  door"  at  the  other  side. 
Finally,  being  penned  in  with  both  doors  shut  and 
thoroughly  frightened,  he  dashed  into  the  closet 
which  was  between  the  doors,  and  hid  behind  the 
woodbox. 

"Now,"  said  Gus,  exultantly,  "you  watch  that 
he  don't  get  out,  and  I'll  crawl  in  after  him. 
Oh,  my  goodness !  there's  Mr.  Daniels  comin' 
now." 

The  cowhide  boots  of  the  teacher  were  heard  on 
fche  stairs.  Bradley,  in  desperation,  shut  the  closet 
door  upon  the  imprisoned  Winfield.  Mr.  Daniels 
stepped  to  the  rope  in  the  entry  and  gave  it  a  pull. 
The  bell  above  responded  with  a  single  note,  and  the 
scholars  began  to  pour  up  the  stairs. 

"We  will  come  to  order,"  commanded  the  teacher. 
Bradley,  glancing  across  the  aisle  at  Gus,  saw  that  she 
was  as  white  as  the  whitewashed  wall. 

"First  class  in  arithmetic,"  said  Mr.  Daniels,  and 
theH,  from  the  closet,  came  a  long,  dismal  whine. 
The  "first  class  in  arithmetic"  stopped  in  its  tracks 
and  looked  aghast.  The  whole  school — with  two 


THE  "DOG  GIRL"  55 

exceptions — pricked   up    its   ears.      The    exceptions 
trembled. 

"Ow-wow-wow!"  came  from  the  closet.  Mr. 
Daniels  strode  across  the  floor  and  opened  the  door. 

"Whose  dog  is  this?"  he  demanded,  sternly. 

No  one  answered. 

"Come  out  of  that!"  commanded  the  teacher,  sav- 
agely. He  reached  behind  the  woodbox  and,  seizing 
the  cowering  Winfield  by  the  "scruff"  of  the  neck, 
tossed  him  into  the  room.  "Whose  dog  is  this?"  he 
repeated. 

Most  of  the  scholars  knew  whose  dog  it  was,  but 
none  of  them  told. 

"I  asked  a  question!"  thundered  the  master. 
"Who  put  that — that  creature  in  the  closet?" 

1  Bradley  looked  at  his  fellow-conspirator.    Then  he 
held  up  his  hand.     "I  did,"  he  said. 

Mr.  Daniels'  mouth  opened  in  surprise.  New 
pupils  did  not  usually  begin  in  this  way. 

"You  did?"  he  gasped. 

"Yes,  sir.     He  fol I  mean  he  came  into  the 

room  when  'twas  recess,  and  we — I  tried  to  put  him 
out  and  he  wouldn't  go." 

"So  you  shut  him  in  the  closet.  Brilliant  youth! 
As  this  is  your  first  day  here,  I  suppose  I  must  stretch 
a  point  and  believe  it  was  not  done  on  purpose.  If  it 
had  been  any  other  of  the  scholars,  I  should  have 
made  an  example  of  'em.  I  am  surprised  that  you 
should  treat  your  little  brother"  (appreciative  titter 
from  the  school)  "in  such  a  manner.  You  may  put 
him  out." 


56  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

It  was  easy  enough  to  command,  but  not  so  easy  to 
do.  The  dog,  frightened  at  the  crowd,  backed  away 
when  Bradley  approached. 

"Come  here,  Winfield,"  said  the  boy,  his  face 
a  bright  crimson.  The  school  giggled  at  the 
name. 

"Winfield?"  repeated  Mr.  Daniels.  "Why  that 
name,  if  you  please?" 

«I_I  don't  know,  sir." 

"You  don't  know?" 

"No,  sir."  And  then  the  boy  had  a  happy 
thought.  "He's  named  after  Gen'ral  Hancock,  I 
guess." 

General  Winfield  Scott  Hancock,  in  his  role  of 
statesman,  was  very  much  in  the  public  eye  just  at  this 
time. 

Mr.  Daniels  hesitated.  He  more  than  sus- 
pected the  dog's  real  namesake,  but  he  wasn't  sure, 
and,  being  a  weak  man,  was  afraid  of  making  a  mis- 
take. 

"Well,  put  the  creature  out !"  he  snarled,  and  then, 
losing  his  temper  and  aiming  a  kick  at  the  dog,  he 
commanded,  "Git  out,  you  brute !" 

That  kick  was  a  mistake.  Winfield  wasn't  used  to' 
kicks,  and  this  one  scattered  his  doggish  senses  com- 
pletely. He  started  on  a  panicky,  yelping  flight, 
hotly  pursued  by  Bradley.  Down  the  aisle  by  the 
"boys'  side,"  across  the  back  of  the  room  amongst  the 
feet  of  the  "first  class  in  arithmetic"  and  up  the  aisle 
by  the  "girls'  side"  sped  the  chase.  At  the  end  of 
the  second  lap  the  entire  school  was  in  an  uproar. 


THE  "DOG  GIRL"  57 

Mr.  Daniels,  white  with  rage,  took  a  hand  in  the 
pursuit  and  his  efforts  and  those  of  two  or  three 
more  volunteers  only  made  matters  worse. 

At  length  the  dog,  hemmed  in  on  both  sides,  hesi- 
tated in  the  middle  of  the  broad  aisle.  Suddenly  he 
darted  toward  the  closet  once  more.  Mr.  Daniels 
leaped  to  intercept  him,  tripped,  struck  the  stool  upon 
which  the  bucket  of  drinking  water  was  placed  and 
sprawled  upon  the  floor  in  the  centre  of  a  miniature 
flood,  while  Winfield,  leaping  over  him,  darted 
through  the  entry  and  down  the  stairs,  a  shrieking 
maniac. 

The  dripping  Mr.  Daniels  was  physically  cool,  but 
mentally  very  warm  indeed.  "Checks"  were  distrib- 
uted with  liberality  and  two  boys  were  "feruled"  be- 
fore twelve  o'clock  came.  One  of  these  sufferers  was 
Bradley's  seat  mate,  Sam  Hammond. 

Bradley  went  home  alone.  When  the  "old  maids" 
asked  him  innumerable  questions  concerning  how  he 
"got  along"  at  school,  he  simply  answered  "All 
right"  and  gave  no  details.  Miss  Tempy  was  some- 
what worried  at  his  silence  and  confided  to  her  sister 
the  fear  that  he  had  been  "studyin'  too  hard."  "All 
our  people  have  been  dreadful  keen  students,"  she 
said. 

It  was  nearly  one  o'clock  when  the  boy  re-entered 
the  schoolyard.  As  he  did  so  a  shout  went  up  from 
a  group  near  the  fence. 

"Here  he  is!"  yelled  one  of  the  older  boys. 
"Here's  your  beau,  Gus.  He  won't  let  'em  plague 
his  girl,  you  bet!" 


5 8  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

"No,"  shouted  Sam  Hammond.  " 'Gusty 's  all 
right  now,  ain't  she  ?  He'll  take  care  of  her. 

"  'Gusty  had  a  little  dog, 

It's  fleece  was  black's  a  crow " 

"You  shut  up  I"  screamed  Gus,  breaking  from  the 
circle,  and  stamping  her  foot  savagely.  Her  face 
was  red  and  there  were  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"It  followed  her  to  school  one  day,"  continued  the 
tormentor. 

"What's  the  matter,  Gus?"  asked  Bradley,  coming 
up. 

"Haw,  haw!"  laughed  Sam,  gleefully.  "I  told 
you  so.  Bradley'll  take  care  of  her. 

"Bradley  Nickerson,  so  they  say, 
Goes  a-courtin'  night  and  day; 
Sword  and  pistol  by  his  side, 

And  'Gusty  Baker'll  be  his  bride.^ 

"What's  the  matter,  Gus?"  he  added,  mockingly. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  repeated  Bradley. 

"None  of  your  bus'ness !"  snapped  Gus,  who  was 
in  no  mood  to  be  friendly  with  any  one.  "You  jest 
cwait,  Sam  Hammond!  I'll  fix  you!  Got  whipped 
in  school !  Ha,  ha !  Cry  baby !"  And  she  gave  an 
exaggerated  imitation  of  her  enemy's  facial  contor- 
tions during  the  "feruling"  that  morning. 

"Come  on,  Gus,"  interposed  Clara  Hopkins.  "He 
isn't  worth  talkin'  to.  Come  on,  I've  got  somethin' 
to  show  you.71 


THE  "DOG  GIRL"  59 

Gus  reluctantly  suffered  herself  to  be  led  away 
amid  the  derisive  hootings  of  Sam  and  his  friends. 

"Ain't  you  goin'  with  her?"  asked  Sam,  provok- 
ingly.  "She  wants  her  Braddy,  so's  to  take  care  of 
her  if  Winfeld  comes  to  school  again.  " 

Bradley's  temper  was  slow  to  rise,  but  it  was  rising 
now. 

"Who  are  you  talkin'  to?"  he  demanded. 

"You.     Who  do  you  s'pose?" 

"Well,  you'd  better  shut  up." 

"/  had?     S'pose  I  don't  want  to?" 

"Then  I'll  make  you—  that's  what!" 

'Tow  will?" 

"Yes,  I  will."      . 

"You  ain't  the  size.    Take's  a  man,  not  a  monkey." 

"I'll  show  you  whether  I'm  the  size  or  not." 


"Aw,  gee!"  said  one  of  the  bigger  boys.  "I 
wouldn't  take  that  from  no  Wellmouth  kid,  if  I  was 
you,  Sam." 

"Nor  I,  neither,"  said  another. 

Thus  encouraged,  Sam  bristled  up  to  his  opponent 
and  looked  down  at  him  sneeringly.  Bradley  didn't 
give  way  an  inch,  and  the  two  boys  rubbed  jackets  as 
they  moved  slowly  about  each  other.  The  surround- 
ing group  looked  delightedly  expectant. 

"Stop  your  shovin'  !"  commanded  Sam,  giving  his 
enemy  a  push  with  his  shoulder. 

"Stop  yourself,"  said  Bradley,  pushing  back. 

"I'll  put  a  head  on  you  so's  the  old  maids  won't 
know  you." 


60  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

"I'll  make  you  snivel  worse'n  you  did  in  school  this 


morn  in'.' 


"Well,  Sam !"  exclaimed  a  spectator,  in  huge  dis- 
gust; " 'fore  I'd  take  that!" 

The  Hammond  boy  did  not  really  want  to  fight, 
but,  thus  goaded,  he  suddenly  gave  Bradley  a  violent 
push  with  both  hands.  The  next  instant  both  young- 
ters  were  clasped  tightly  together,  gripping  each 
other  about  the  neck  and  wrestling  savagely.  In  a 
moment  they  fell  with  a  thump  and  rolled  over  and 
over,  pounding,  kicking  and  scratching.  The  snow 
flew  and  the  crowd  whooped  and  pushed  and  strained 
to  see  better. 

Then  there  was  a  rush,  a  frightened  scurry,  and 
both  combatants  were  pulled  apart  and  jerked  to  their 
feet,  while  Mr.  Daniels,  holding  each  by  the  coat  col- 
lar, glared  down  upon  them. 

"You  may  come  with  me,"  he  said,  with  chilling 
calmness. 

The  scene  in  the  schoolroom  that  followed  was 
brief  but  exciting.  Bradley  held  out  his  hand  and 
bit  his  lip  stubbornly  while  the  ferule  descended — 
once — twice — twelve  times. 

"There !"  said  the  teacher.  "Now  you  may  take 
your  seat.  For  a  new  scholar  you  begin  extremely 
well.  Now,  Samuel!" 

The  Hammond  hand  having  received  its  share  of 
beating,  and  its  owner  also  sent  to  his  seat,  Mr. 
Daniels  said :  "Both  of  you  will  lose  your  afternoon 
recess.  I  shall  also  give  each  of  you  a  note,  telling 
of  your  punishment,  to  take  home." 


THE  "DOG  GIRL"  61 

At  half-past  four  that  afternoon,  Bradley,  with 
the  note  tightly  clasped  in  his  hand,  walked  dismally 
up  the  walk  to  the  Allen  back  door.  The  thought 
that  he  had  disgraced  himself  forever  in  the  eyes  of 
his  protectors  burned  like  a  fire  under  his  new  cap. 
Also,  there  was  a  bitter  feeling  that  Gus,  the  cause  of 
all  his  trouble,  had  not  been  near  him  to  console  or 
ask  pardon. 

It  was  typical  of  the  boy  that  he  had  not  thought 
of  destroying  the  note.  He  handed  it  to  Miss  Prissy 
the  moment  he  opened  the  door.  She  read  it  and  sat 
heavily  down  in  the  chintz  rocker. 

"My  soul  and  body !"  she  wailed.  "Tempy  Allen, 
come  here  this  minute !  Here !  for  mercy's  sake  read 
this!" 

Miss  Tempy's  agitation  was  even  more  marked 
than  that  of  her  sister. 

"Oh,  oh,  oh!"  she  cried,  waving  the  condemning 
sheet  of  paper  like  a  distress  signal.  "How  could 
you!  how  could  you!  I  don't  b'lieve  a  relation  of 
the  Aliens  was  ever  whipped  in  school  before.  What 
shall  we  do,  Prissy  And  his  first  day,  too!" 

Bradley,  with  direful  thoughts  of  self-destruction 
in  his  mind,  twisted  his  new  cap  into  a  ball,  but  said 
nothing. 

"He  says  you  were  fightin'  and  there  was  somethin' 
else,"  said  Miss  Prissy.  "Tell  the  whole  story  now, 
every  word." 

The  boy  began  slowly.  He  told  of  shutting  the 
dog  in  the  closet,  but  was  interrupted  by  the  older 
sister,  who  demanded  to  know  whose  dog  it  was. 


62  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

"Whose  was  it?"  she  asked.  "Why  don't  you  an- 
swer? Don't  you  know?" 

"Yes'm." 

"Then  whose  was  it?" 

Bradley  shifted  his  feet  uneasily  on  the  mat. 

"I  ain't  goin'  to  tell,"  he  muttered,  sullenly. 

"Ain't  goin'  to  tell?     Why,  I  nev " 

She  was  interrupted.  The  door  behind  Bradley 
flew  open  and  Gus  appeared,  tearful  but  determined. 

"Miss  Prissy  and  Miss  Tempy,"  she  began,  "don't 
you  scold  Bradley!  Don't  you  now,  a  bit.  It  was 
all  my  fault,  every  mite  of  it.  Oh,  dear,  dear!" 

And  with  sobs  and  amid  the  ejaculations  of  the 
astonished  sisters,  she  told  the  whole  story,  omitting 
nothing  and  sparing  herself  not  the  least.  When  the 
recital  was  finished,  Miss  Prissy  was  the  first  to  com- 
ment upon  it. 

"Well!"  she  exclaimed.  "This  is  the  most— I 

never  did There,  Tempy !  if  this  ain't  a  lesson 

in  keepin'  bad  comp'ny,  then  /  don't  know.  Augusty, 
you'd  better  go  home,  I  think." 

Gus  looked  at  Bradley  appealingly,  then  at  the 
sisters,  and,  with  another  burst  of  sobs,  flung  herself 
out  of  the  door  and  slammed  it  behind  her. 

"That  awful  dog  girl!"  sputtered  Miss  Tempy. 
"I  knew  what  she  was  from  the  time  she  spoiled  this 
very  floor  with  her  dreadful  critters.  Bradley  Nick- 
erson,  don't  you  ever  speak  to  her  again.  Now 
promise." 

But  that  promise  the  boy  would  not  make,  al- 


THE  "DOG  GIRL"  63 

though  the  argument  lasted  for  an  hour,  and  ended  in 
his  being  sent  to  his  room  without  his  supper. 

"It  looks  to  me,"  said  Miss  Prissy  that  night,  "as 
if  we'd  got  about  as  much  on  our  hands  as  you  and 
me  could  handle,  Tempy." 

"It  certainly  does,"  agreed  her  sister,  nervously. 
"I  think  it's  our  duty  to  ask  Cap'n  Titcomb's  advice 
right  off." 


CHAPTER    IV. 
THE  "LAST  DAY." 

WHEN  the  Captain  called,  which  he  did  the 
next  forenoon,  the  tale  of  Bradley's  event- 
ful first  day  at  school  was  told  him  in  all 
its  Harrowing  completeness.     Miss  Prissy — by  previ- 
ous   agreement — acted    as    story-teller,    and    Miss 
Tempy  was  a  sort  of  chorus,  breaking  in  every  few 
moments  to  supply  a  neglected  detail,  or  comment  on 
a  particular  feature. 

"And  we  didn't  know  what  to  do,"  concluded  Miss 
Prissy.  "He  wan't  goin'  to  tell  us  whose  dog  it  was, 
and " 

64 


THE  "LAST  DAY"  65 

"I  don't  b'lieve  he  ever  would  have  told,"  broke  in 
Miss  Tempy,  "if  that  'dog  girl'  herself  hadn't  come 
bouncin'  in,  and " 

"And  he  won't  promise  not  to  speak  to  her  again, 
neither,"  continued  the  older  sister.  "We  sent  him 
to  bed  without  any  supper " 

"That  is,  any  real  supper,"  interrupted  the  chorus. 
"Of  course  we  took  up  some  cookies  and  things  when 
we  found  he  wouldn't  come  down,  but " 

"And  he  won't  promise  this  mornin',  and  he  went 
to  school  without  promisin'.  What  do  you  think  we 
ought  to  do,  Cap'n  Titcomb?" 

"Yes,  Cap'n,"  Miss  Tempy  joined  in  the  appeal. 
"What  do  you  think  we  ought  to  do?" 

"Well,"  replied  the  Captain — he  had  listened  to 
the  recital  with  a  very  solemn  face,  but  there  was  a 
twinkle  in  his  eye — "well,  I  don't  know.  It  makes 
me  think  of  what  the  old  man — dad,  I  mean — said  to 
me  once,  when  I  was  a  little  shaver  'bout  Brad's  age. 
The  old  man  was  a  great  feller  for  horses  and,  when 
he  give  up  goin'  to  sea,  he  used  to  always  have  two  or 
three  horses  'round  the  place,  and  there  was  gin'rally 
a  colt  to  be  broke.  You  never  had  much  dealin's  with 
-c^V:s,  I  s'pose?" 

"No,"  answered  Miss  Tempy,  thoughtfully. 
"Long's  father  lived  we  kept  a  horse — Dexter  was 
his  name — but  I  s'pose  he  wasn't  really  what  you'd 
call  a  colt." 

Captain  Ezra — he  remembered  the  ancient  and 
wheezy  Dexter — gravely  agreed  that  the  latter  was 
not  precisely  a  colt. 


66  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

"Well,"  he  continued,  "I  always  thought  I  was 
pretty  nigh  as  smart  as  the  next  feller,  and  I  was  for- 
ever teasin'  the  old  man  to  let  me  break  one  of  the 
colts.  Finally  he  let  me  try  it.  After  I'd  had  a 
lively  ten  minutes  or  so,  and  was  roostin'  heels  up  in 
a  snarl  of  rosb'ry  bushes,  with  the  colt  grinnin'  at  me, 
so's  to  speak,  over  the  stone  wall,  the  old  man  come 
loafin'  up,  and  he  says: 

"  'Ez,'  he  says,  'what  you  doin', — restin'?  Better 
git  up,  hadn't  you,  and  take  another  try?  The  colt's 
ready,'  he  says. 

"I  stopped  picking  the  rosb'ry  briars  out  of  my 
face,  and  tried  to  grin,  and  told  him  that  I  guessed 
I'd  had  enough, 

"  'Oh!'  says  he,  'you  mustn't  talk  that  way.  It's 
a  mutual  breakin','  he  says,  'and  you  and  the  colt  are 
jest  gittin'  used  to  one  another's  little  ways.' 

"P'raps  that's  the  way  'tis  here,"  continued  the 
Captain.  "Brad  and  you  two  ladies  are  jest  gittin' 
used  to  each  other's  little  ways.  Of  course  you  must 
remember  it  is  only  a  colt  you're  handlin'.  I  think 
the  boy's  all  right,  and  I  don't  object  to  his  stickin' 
by  those  that  he  thinks  stuck  by  him.  Par's  the  girl's 
concerned,  she  always  struck  me  as  a  pretty  trim  little 
craft." 

"She's  noisy  and  a  tomboy,"  said  Miss  Prissy,  de- 
cidedly. 

"Yes,"  said  Miss  Tempy;  "and  she  likes  those 
dreadful  dogs." 

"Um--^hum,"  answered  their  visitor,  with  unim- 
peachable seriousness.  "Of  course  that's  a  terrible 


THE  "LAST  DAY'  67 

drag,  but  maybe  she'll  cut  'em  adrift  when  she  gits 
older;  she's  only  a  colt,  too,"  he  added. 

"Well,  we  don't  like  her,"  said  Miss  Prissy,  with 
decision.  "And  we  wish  you'd  speak  to  Bradley 
about  it.  You  know,"  she  added,  looking  down,  "I 
put  a  lot  of  dependence  in  your  judgment,  Cap'n 
Titcomb." 

"So  do  I,"  said  Miss  Tempy,  quickly;  "jest  as 
much  as  Prissy  does.  I  b'lieve  in  you  absolutely, 
Cap'n  Ezra." 

"Yes,  yes,  of  course,"  hurriedly  replied  the  Cap- 
tain. "Well,  I'll  speak  to  the  boy,  by  and  by,  and 
see  what  I  can  do." 

In  response  to  the  pressing  invitation  of  the  sisters, 
he  reluctantly  agreed  to  stay  to  dinner.  That  dinner 
was  a  marvel.  Bradley  saw  that  his  supper,  the 
night  of  his  arrival,  was  a  mere  beggar's  crust  com- 
pared to  the  spread  that  noon.  In  fact,  it  did  not 
take  him  very  long  to  notice  that  not  even  the 
minister's  appetite  was  tempted  with  the  array  of 
special  dishes,  puddings,  cakes  and  preserves,  that 
were  always  in  evidence  when  the  Captain  was  a 
guest. 

After  dinner,  when  the  boy  started  for  school 
again,  Captain  Titcomb  walked  with  him  a  part  of 
the  way.  The  Captain  had  a  married  sister  living 
"down  at  the  Neck,"  but  he  did  not  make  his  head- 
quarters at  her  home,  preferring  to  keep  bachelor's 
hall  at  his  room  at  the  Traveler's  Rest,  during  his 
infrequent  shore  leaves.  "I  always  feel  more  inde- 
pendent on  my  own  deck,"  was  the  way  he  expresses 


68  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

it.    "Then  I  can  cuss  the  steward,  when  it's  necessary, 
without  startin'  a  mutiny." 

"Brad,"  he  said,  as  they  came  out  of  the  Allen 
gate,  "what's  this  I  hear  'bout  you  gittin'  the  rope's- 
end  yesterday  ?  Never  mind  spinnin'  the  whole  yarn ; 
I  caHate  I've  heard  the  most  of  it.  You  and  the 
Hammond  boy  had  a  scrimmage,  too,  didn't  you?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Bradley,  doggedly. 

"Hum !  Think  you'd  have  licked  him  if  the  skip- 
per hadn't  took  a  hand?" 

Bradley  looked  up  at  his  questioner,  saw  the  twin- 
kle in  his  eye,  and  answered,  with  a  sheepish  grin: 
"Don't  know.  Guess  I'd  have  tried  mighty  hard." 

The  Captain  roared.  "I  presume  likely  you 
would,"  he  chuckled.  "You  look  to  me  like  one  of 
the  kind  that  sticks  to  a  thing  when  you've  started  in. 
Well,  you  needn't  tell  the  folks  at  home  that  I  said 
it,  but  I've  had  the  advantage  of  bein'  a  boy  myself 
— which  they  haven't — and  I  know  there's  times 
when  a  feller  has  to  fight.  I've  gin'rally  found, 
though,"  he  added,  "that  it's  better  to  go  a  consid- 
'rable  ways  in  agreein'  'fore  you  knock  a  man  down. 
It  pays  better,  for  one  thing,  and  don't  git  into  the 
papers,  for  another.  I  understand  you've  sort  of 
took  that  little  Baker  craft,  next  door,  in  tow.  She 
seems  like  a  smart  girl;  do  you  like  her?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"I  jedge  Prissy  and  Tempy  wouldn't  enter  her  for 
the  cup.  Now,  Brad,  mind  I  ain't  coaxin'  you  to  go 
back  on  a  friend,  but  the  old  mai — that  is,  your  ladies 
at  home,  have  set  out  to  make  a  man  of  you.  They're 


THE  "LAST  DAY"  69 

your  owners  and  you're  expected  to  sail  'cordin'  to 
their  orders.  If  there's  one  thing  that  I've  always 
stuck  to  it's  'Obey  orders  or  break  owners.'  Some- 
times owner's  orders  don't  jibe  exactly  with  your  own 
ideas,  but  never  mind — they  pay  the  wages;  see?" 

* 'She's  a  good  girl,"  said  the  boy,  stoutly.  "She 
came  in  and  took  my  part  when  she  didn't  have  to, 
and  I  like  her.  And  I  won't  promise  not  to  speak  to 
her,  neither." 

The  Captain  looked  down  at  the  lad's  square  jaw 
and  whistled. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "I  don't  b'lieve  you  need  to  prom* 
ise,  but  don't  whoop  too  loud  about  it.  Run  as  close 
to  the  wind  as  you  can,  and  don't  carry  all  sail  in  a 
two-reef  breeze  jest  to  show  you  ain't  afraid  to.  Be- 
cause a  man's  a  good  Republican,  it  don't  follow  that 
it's  policy  to  go  to  a  Democratic  rally  and  tell  the 
speaker  he's  a  liar.  Catch  my  drift?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  answered  Bradley,  rather  doubtfully. 
"You  mean  be  chums  with  the  girl,  but  don't  tell  Miss 
Prissy  and  Miss  Tempy  about  it." 

"No — o."  Captain  Ezra  looked  somewhat  put 
out  by  the  literal  interpretation.  "That  ain't  jest  it. 

Be — well,  be  easy,  and Oh,  thunder!  Let  it 

go  at  that.  I  guess  you  know  what  I  mean.  How 
do  you  think  you're  goin'  to  like  your  school?" 

Bradley  answered,  "Pretty  well,  I  guess,  when  I 
get  more  used  to  it;"  but,  although  he  did  not  say  so, 
he  was  certain  that  it  would  take  some  time  to  get 
used  to  it.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  however,  that  very 
lively  first  day  was  the  only  serious  trouble  for  him 


70  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

during  that  entire  term.  He  was  quick  to  learn,  and 
so  found  little  difficulty  with  his  studies,  and  advanced 
as  rapidly  as  other  boys  of  his  age.  As  for  his  be- 
havior, it  was  no  worse  than  that  of  any  other  healthy 
youngster.  At  the  end  of  the  year  he  was  "promoted" 
— that  is,  he  was  no  longer  a  member  of  the  fourth 
class,  but  instead  proudly  left  his  seat  when  the  third 
was  called. 

Gus  was  "promoted"  also,  much  to  the  surprise  of 
the  "old  maids,"  who  could  not  believe  there  was  any 
good  in  the  "dog  girl."  They  gradually  ceased  to 
urge  the  boy  not  to  have  anything  to  do  with  her,  for 
the  very  good  reason  that,  in  this  matter,  their  urging 
was  of  no  avail.  They  grew  to  understand  their 
colt  better  as  the  months  passed,  and  they  learned 
just  how  tight  a  rein  it  was  advisable  to  draw. 

Bradley  also  grew  to  understand  the  sisters.  He 
discovered  that  Miss  Prissy  was  the  business  woman, 
and  that  she  paid  all  the  bills,  bought  all  the  house- 
hold supplies,  and  did  it  without  consulting  Miss 
Tempy,  whom  she  treated  as  a  sort  of  doll  with  a 
mechanism  that  must  not  be  jarred. 

Miss  Tempy  was  "delicate" — at  least,  she  believed 
that  she  was.  She  always  had  a  new  patent  medicine 
on  hand,  and  was  always  sure  that  it  was  "doin*  a 
world"  for  her.  She  was  the  household  art  critic, 
passing  judgment  on  the  retrimming  of  bonnets, 
making  over  of  dresses  and  the  like.  Under  her 
direction  the  celebrated  "plaid  pants"  of  the  lamented 
Captain  Darius  were  made  over  for  Bradley,  and 
the  boy  "hooked  Jack"  for  a  whole  day,  because  he 


THE  "LAST  DAT1  71 

wouldn't  wear  the  things  to  school.  Gus  came  to 
his  rescue  by  tipping  a  can  of  red  paint  over  his  legs 
as  they  were  passing  the  wheelwright's  shop,  and  the 
plaid  outrages  were  thus  put  out  of  business  for- 
ever. Bradley  appreciated  the  kindly  spirit  that 
decked  him  in  the  "pants,"  but  he  was  thankful  for 
the  paint. 

Miss  Tempy  was  romantic.  She  read  a  great  deal, 
and  her  favorite  stories  were  those  appearing  serially 
in  The  Fireside  Comforter,  a  pile  of  which,  together 
with  the  back  numbers  of  Godey's  Lady's  Book,  were 
kept  on  the  shelf  in  the  sitting-room  closet.  In  these 
stories  Lord  Eric  wooed,  and  inevitably  won,  Evelyn, 
the  beautiful  factory  girl,  but  Miss  Tempy — in  spite 
of  repeated  experiences — was  never  sure  that  he 
would  win  her,  and  so  was  in  a  state  of  delightful 
apprehension  and  hope  during  the  intervals  between 
installments.  She  loved  to  read  these  installments 
aloud,  and,  when  they  were  finished,  turned  to  Tup- 
per  and  Wordsworth's  poems.  She  read  poetry 
with  what  she  called  "expression,"  and  wind  was  al- 
ways "wynd"  with  her. 

Captain  Titcomb  was  the  one  point  in  which  Miss 
Prissy  would  not  efface  herself  in  favor  of  her 
younger  sister.  Secretly,  each  lady  had  hopes  that 
the  Captain's  calls  were  more  than  mere  friendly 
visits;  but,  because  the  object  of  these  hopes  never 
allowed  himself  to  show  the  slightest  preference,  the 
race  was  heartbreakingly  even.  But  when  Miss 
Tempy  read  of  Lord  Eric  she  always  imagined  that 
nobleman  as  looking  and  acting  like  the  Captain. 


72  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

Bradley  made  friends  among  the  village  boys,  and 
did  not  make  any  virulent  enemies.  He  had  his  in- 
terrupted fight  "out"  with  Sam  Hammond,  and 
emerged  a  conqueror  with  a  black  eye  and  a  swollen 
nose,  which  were  the  cause  of  his  being  in  disgrace 
at  home  for  a  week.  Also  he  joined  the  "Jolly  Club," 
a  secret  society  that  met  on  Saturday  afternoons  in 
"Snuppy"  Black's  barn. 

Just  why  this  gruesome  society  was  christened  the 
"Jolly  Club"  is  rather  hard  to  understand.  The  in- 
itiation ceremony  was  anything  but  jolly  to  the  trem- 
bling youth  who,  having  sworn  a  most  blood-curdling 
oath  of  secrecy,  was  conducted  blindfold  to  the  place 
of  assembly.  In  Bradley's  case  it  was  "Snuppy" 
himself  who  officiated  as  guide.  After  tying  a  hand- 
kerchief— not  too  clean  and  smelling  of  sweet-fern 
cigars — over  his  friend's  eyes,  "Snuppy"  led  him  over 
fences  and  through  back  yards  for  a  distance  that 
seemed  miles.  Then,  at  last,  they  stopped  and  the 
guide  rapped  "three  times  fast  and  twice  slow"  on 
something  that  sounded  like  a  door. 

The  knocks  were  answered  in  kind  by  one  within. 
Then  a  hollow  voice  asked,  apparently  through  a 
speaking  trumpet,  "Who  goes  there?" 

"One  of  the  mystic  brothers,"  replied  "Snuppy." 

"Have  you  the  grip  and  countersign?" 

"I  have." 

"Then  give  'em."  A  hand  was  thrust  out  through 
the  hole  cut  in  the  door  for  the  convenience  of  the 
cat.  "Snuppy"  grasped  the  hand  and  fingered  it  ac- 
cording to  formula.  Then  he  stooped  to  the  "cat 


THE  "LAST  DAY'  73 

hole"  and  hoarsely  whispered  the  countersign, 
"Death." 

"  Tis  well,  brother,"  proclaimed  the  unseen.  "But 
who  is  with  you?" 

"One  who  would — would " 

"Would  fain "  prompted  the  voice. 

"Would  fain  join  our  chosen  band." 

"Is  he  prepared  to  face  an  awful  doom?"  This 
would  have  been  more  alarming  if  the  voice  had  not 
added,  in  an  indignant  whisper,  "Shut  up  laffin',  you 
fellers!  D'you  want  to  spoil  everything?" 

Bradley,  having  announced  his  readiness  to  face 
the  "doom,"  the  door  was  opened  and  he  was  led, 
stumbling,  into  what  "Snuppy"  informed  him  solemn- 
ly was  the  "Hall  of  Torture,"  but  which  smelt  like  a 
barn.  Then  the  "mystic  brothers" — led  by  the  owner 
of  the  voice,  who  announced  himself  as  "Grand 
Chief" — proceeded  to  put  the  neophyte  through  a 
course  of  sprouts  that  would  have  turned  a  grown 
man's  hair  gray.  They  came  to  a  sudden  end,  when 
the  "Grand  Chief"  proclaimed: 

"Boy,  you  are  now  standin'  on  the  brink  of  a 
frightful  precipice.  Behind  you  is  unknown  depths." 

"Ain't  neither,  Hart  Sears,"  was  the  unexpected 
reply  of  the  victim.  "I'm  standin'  on  the  beam  over 
the  mow.  I  can  see  down  underneath  this  handker- 
chief and  there's  the  hay." 

"Aw,  gee!"  shouted  the  disgusted  "Grand  Chief." 
"That's  you  all  over,  Snuppy !  Don't  know  enough 
to  tie  a  handkerchief  tight!" 

Having  undergone  this  harrowing  ordeal,  Bradley 


74  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

was  entitled  to  wear  a  shining  badge — made  by  the 
tinsmith's  son — that  bore  upon  it,  hammered  out  with 
a  nail,  the  mystic  capitals,  "J.  C."  His  worst  quarrel 
with  Gus  and  her  friend,  Clara  Hopkins — the  quarrel 
that  lasted  two  weeks  without  a  making  up — came 
about  because  the  new  member  refused  to  tell  what 
the  initials  "stood  for." 

During  the  long  summer  vacation  there  were 
chores  to  do,  but  there  was  also  all  sorts  of  fun  along- 
shore, digging  clams  on  the  flats,  spearing  flat-fish 
along  the  edge  of  the  channels,  or  rare  and 
much-prized  trips  to  the  fish-weirs  where  the  nets 
were  hauled  Captain  Titcomb  came  home  in  Au- 
gust for  an  intended  stay  of  two  weeks,  and  he  made 
the  boy  happy  by  taking  him  for  an  all-day  sail  and 
blue-fishing  excursion  off  Setuckit  Point. 

That  fishing  trip  had  unexpected  and  fateful  re- 
sults. The  Captain  had  called  on  Miss  Prissy  and 
her  sister  the  morning  of  his  arrival  in  Orham  and, 
as  was  his  custom,  had  brought  each  of  them  a  pres- 
ent— exactly  alike,  of  course.  He  had  promised  to 
dine  at  the  Allen  house  the  following  Sunday.  But  it 
happened  that  Peleg  Myrick  wanted  to  make  one  of 
his  infrequent  visits  to  the  mainland  that  week,  and 
he  seized  the  opportunity  to  hail  the  catboat  contain- 
ing Bradley  and  Captain  Ezra,  as  it  passed  his  qua- 
haug  dory,  and  beg  for  a  passage  up. 

Mr.  Peleg  Myrick  was  a  hermit.  He  lived  alone 
in  a  little  two-room  shanty  on  the  beach  about  half  a 
mile  from  Setuckit  Point.  He  owned  a  concertina 
that  squeaked  and  wailed,  and  a  Mexican  dog — gift 


THE  "LAST  DAT'  75 

of  a  wrecked  skipper — that  shivered  all  the  time,  and 
howled  when  the  concertina  was  played.  Peleg  was 
certain  that  the  howling  was  an  attempt  at  singing, 
and  boasted  that  "Skeezicks" — that  was  the  dog's 
name — had  an  uear  for  music  jest  like  a  human." 

Among  his  other  accomplishments  Mr.  Myrick 
numbered  that  of  weather  prophet.  He  boasted  that 
he  could  usmell  a  storm  further'n  a  cat  can  smell 
fish."  It  was  odd,  but  he  really  did  seem  ablelto  fore- 
tell, or  guess,  what  the  weather  would  be  along  the 
Orham  coast,  and  the  'longshoremen  swore  by  his 
prophecies. 

He  was  a  great  talker,  when  he  had  any  one  to 
talk  to,  and  was  a  gossip  whose  news  items  were 
usually  about  three  months  old.  Captain  Ezra  ap- 
preciated odd  characters  and  he  welcomed  the  chance 
to  get  a  little  fun  out  of  Peleg. 

"Well,  Peleg,"  said  the  Captain,  as  the  catboat 
stood  about  on  the  first  leg  of  the  homeward  stretch, 
"what's  the  news  down  the  beach?  Any  of  the  sand 
fleas  got  married  lately?" 

"Don't  ask  me  for  no  news,  Cap'n  Ezl"  replied 
Mr.  Myrick.  "You're  the  feller  to  have  news.  You 
ain't  married  yit,  be  you?" 

"No,  not  yet.  I'm  waitin'  to  see  which  girl  you 
pick  out;  then  I'll  see  what's  left." 

"Well,  I  ain't  foolin'.  I  thought  you  might  be 
married  by  now.  Last  time  I  was  up  to  the  village 
— 'long  in  June,  'twas — I  see  M'lissy  Busteed,  and 
she  said  'twas  common  talk  that  you  was  courtin'  one 
of  the  old  maids." 


j6  PAR  TNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

Captain  Titcomb  scowled,  and  looked  uneasily  at 
his  passenger. 

"She  did,  hey?"  he  grunted. 

"Yes.  I  told  her  I  didn't  take  no  stock  in  that. 
*Cap'n  Ez,'  I  says,  'has  been  courtin'  too  many  times 
sence  I  can  remember,*  I  says.  'One  time  'twas  Mary 
Emma  Cahoon;  Another  time  'twas  Seth  Wingate's 
sister's  gal ;  then  agin  'twas ' ' 

"All  right!  All  right!"  broke  in  the  Captain, 
glancing  hurriedly  at  Bradley.  "Never  mind  that. 
How's  the  quahaugin'  nowadays?  Gittin'  a  fair 
price?" 

"Pretty  fair,"  replied  Peleg.  Then,  with  the  per- 
sistency of  the  born  gossip,  not  to  be  so  easily  diverted 
from  his  subject,  he  went  on:  "I  told  M'lissy  that, 
but  she  said  there  wan't  scarcely  a  doubt  that  you 
meant  bus'ness  this  time.  Said  you  fetched  presents 
every  time  you  come  home.  Said  the  only  doubt 
in  folks*  minds  was  whether  'twas  Prissy  or  Tempy 
you  was  after.  Said  she  was  sure  you  was  after 
one  on  'em,  'cause  she  as  much  as  asked  'em  one 
time  when  she  was  at  their  house,  and  they  didn't 
deny  it." 

Mr.  Myrick  talked  steadily  on  this  and  other  sub- 
jects all  the  way  to  the  wharf,  but  Captain  Ezra  was 
silent  and  thoughtful.  He  shook  hands  with  Brad- 
ley at  the  gate  of  the  Traveler's  Rest,  and  said  good- 
bye in  an  absent-minded  way. 

"I  s'pose  you'll  be  'round  to- dinner,  Sunday,  Cap'n 
Ez?"  said  the  boy. 

"Hey?    Sunday?    Well,  I  don't  know.    It  might 


THE  "LAST  DAY"  77 

be  that  I  shall  be  called  back  to  the  schooner  sooner 
than  I  expect.  Can't  tell." 

Sure  enough,  the  next  day  the  sisters  received  a  note 
from  their  expected  guest,  saying  that  he  was  obliged 
to  leave  at  once  for  Portland,  and  could  not,  there- 
fore, be  with  them  on  Sunday.  The  ladies  were  dis- 
appointed, but  thought  nothing  more  of  the  matter 
at  the  time.  It  was  nearly  six  months  before  the 
Captain  visited  Orham  again,  and  during  this  visit  he 
did  not  come  near  the  big  house.  He  waylaid  Brad- 
ley, however,  asked  him  all  about  himself,  how  he 
was  getting  on  at  school,  and  the  like,  but  when  the 
boy  asked  if  he,  the  Captain,  wasn't  "comin'  'round  to 
see  the  folks  pretty  soon,"  the  answer  was  vague  and 
unsatisfactory. 

"Why,  I — I  don't  know's  I'll  have  time,"  was  the 
reply.  "I'm  pretty  busy,  and Give  'em  my  re- 
gards, will  you,  Brad?  I've  got  to  be  runnin'  on 
now.  So  long." 

It  was  the  same  during  the  next  "shore  leave,"  the 
following  November.  Captain  Titcomb  saw  Brad- 
ley several  times,  gave  him  a  six-bladed  jack-knife, 
and  took  him  for  a  drive  over  to  the  big  cranberry 
swamp  owned  by  the  Ostable  Company,  but  he  did 
not  call  on  the  "old  maids."  So  when  the  news  came 
— via  Miss  Busteed — that  Captain  Titcomb  had  re- 
turned to  his  vessel,  Miss  Prissy  sighed  and  put  the 
fan  and  the  other  presents  in  a  locked  bureau  drawer, 
and  Miss  Tempy  began  a  new  serial  in  the  Comforter 
without  once  suggesting  that  its  hero  behaved  "jest 
like  Cap'n  Ezra."  In  fact}  the  Captain's  name  was 


78  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

never  mentioned  by  the  sisters,  and  Bradley  himself 
learned  not  to  speak  of  him  while  at  home. 

Three  more  years  of  school  and  vacations,  with 
"chores"  and  sailing  and  cranberry  picking,  followed. 
Bradley  was  sixteen.  His  voice,  having  passed 
through  the  squeaky  "changing"  period,  now  gave 
evidence  of  becoming  what  Miss  Tempy  called  a 
"beautiful  double  bass,  jest  like  father's."  He  was 
large  for  his  age  and  his  shoulders  were  square.  He 
was  more  particular  about  his  clothes  now,  and  his 
neckties  were  no  longer  selected  by  Miss  Tempy.  To 
be  seen  with  girls  was  not  so  "sissified"  in  his  mind 
as  it  used  to  be,  but  he  still  stuck  to  Gus  and  she  was 
his  "first  choice"  at  parties,  and  he  saw  her  home 
from  prayer  meeting  occasionally. 

As  for  the  "dog-girl"  herself,  she,  too,  paid  more 
attention  to  clothes,  and  her  pets — though  still  nu- 
merous and  just  as  disreputable  in  appearance — were 
made  to  behave  with  more  decorum.  Her  hair  was 
carefully  braided  now,  her  dresses  came  down  to  her 
boot  tops,  and  Miss  Tempy  grudgingly  admitted  that 
"if  'twas  .anybody  else,  I  should  say  she  was  likely  to 
be  good  lookin*  when  she  grows  up." 

The  "Last  Day"  came,  and  Bradley  and  Gus  were 
to  graduate.  In  Orham  there  is  no  Graduation  Day. 
The  eventful  ending  of  the  winter  term  is  the  "Last 
Day,"  and  all  the  parents  and  relatives,  together  with 
the  school  committee  and  the  clergymen,  visit  the 
school  to  sit  stiffly  on  the  settees  and  witness  the 
ceremonies. 

The  "old  maids"  were  agitated  on  the  morning  of 


THE  "LAST  DAY"  79* 

the  great  day.  There  was  no  forenoon  session,  and 
when  Bradley — who  had  been  at  the  schoolhouse  to 
help  Gus,  Clara,  Sam  Hammond  and  the  other  older 
scholars  festoon  the  room  with  ropes  and  wreaths  of 
evergreen — came  home  for  luncheon,  he  found  the 
ladies  gowned  and  bonneted,  although  there  were  two 
hours  to  spare  before  the  time  to  start.  Miss  Tempy 
wore  her  silk  mitts  during  the  meal,  and  was  so  nerv- 
ous that  she  could  only  drink  her  "pepper  tea"  and 
eat  one  small  slice  of  bread  and  butter.  Miss  Prissy 
was  nervous  also,  but  she  was  much  more  serious  than 
her  sister. 

"Oh,  dear !"  sputtered  Miss  Tempy.  "What  does 
make  you  so  solemn,  Prissy?  I  declare  you  give  me 
the  fidgets.  Anybody'd  think  'twas  a  funeral  you 
was  goin'  to." 

"  'Tain't  the  school  business  that's  worryin'  me," 
was  the  reply.  "I  only  wish  'twas." 

"Well,  then,  what  is  it.  Now  I  come  to  think  of 
it,  you've  been  glum  as  an  owl  for  two  or  three 
months.  What's  troublin'  you?  I  do  wish  you'd 
speak  out  You're  jest  like  father  used  to  be;  keep 
all  your  troubles  to  yourself  and  never  tell  me  any- 
thing." 

But  Miss  Prissy  only  sighed,  and  her  sister,  too 
excited  to  think  of  other  things  just  at  present,  turned 
to  Bradley  to  ask  him  if  he  was  sure  he  "knew  his 
piece"  and  if  the  schoolroom  "looked  pretty." 

"Only  think,"  she  said,  contentedly,  "how  much 
more  fortunate  you  are  than  some  of  the  other  schol- 
ars, Bradley.  This  is  only  the  beginnin'  of  your  edu- 


8o  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

cation,  as  you  might  say.  Next  year  you'll  be  goin* 
to  high  school,  over  to  Harniss,  and  when  you  get 
through  there,  you'll  commence  college.  It's  goin' 
to  be  Wesleyan,  too.  I've  set  my  heart  on  Wesleyan, 
Prissy." 

Miss  Prissy  didn't  answer,  and  Bradley,  too,  was 
silent.  Gus  was  going  to  high  school,  but  Clara 
Hopkins — whose  father  had  died  recently — was  not. 
Sam  Hammond  loudly  boasted  that  he  was  going  to 
New  York  to  enter  the  office  of  a  large  wrecking  com- 
pany, where,  as  he  said,  he  was  going  to  learn  to  be 
a  diver  and  have  all  sorts  of  adventures.  "My  cousin 
Ed's  a  diver,"  he  proudly  proclaimed,  "and  he  makes 
lots  of  money  and  has  a  great  time.  He  says  there 
ain't  no  sense  in  high  school ;  you  might  as  well  begin 
to  learn  your  trade  now." 

Bradley,  although  he  would  not  have  hurt  the  sis- 
ters' feelings  by  saying  so,  secretly  envied  Sam.  A 
Cape  Cod  boy,  with  the  seagoing  blood  in  his  veins, 
the  big  water  called  him  with  the  call  of  a  master. 
He  loved  the  ocean  and  the  ships  and  the  salt  wind. 
The  Wesleyan  idea  did  not  appeal  to  him  in  the  least. 
A  minister,  in  his  boyish  mind,  was  a  poor  figure  be- 
side a  commander  of  a  life-saving  station,  like  Cap- 
tain Luther  Davis,  or,  better  still,  a  real  sea  captain 
like  Captain  Titcomb. 

After  lunch  Miss  Prissy  unlocked  the  chest  of 
drawers  and  took  out  a  worn  velvet  case. 

"Bradley,"  she  said,  "you've  been  a  good  boy  since 
you've  lived  with  us,  and  me  and  Tempy  have  come 
to  think  as  much  of  you  as  if  you  was  our  own  son. 


THE  "LAST  DAT'  81 

Here's  somethin'  that  we  set  a  great  deal  of  store  by 
and  meant  to  keep  always,  but  we've  talked  it  over 
and  we  think  you  ought  to  have  it  and  wear  it." 

She  opened  the  velvet  case  and  showed  a  big,  old- 
fashioned  silver  watch,  the  chasing  on  its  case  worn 
almost  smooth. 

"It  was  father's  watch,"  said  Miss  Tempy,  "and  he 
always  carried  it.  It  looks  so  much  like  him.  We 
want  you  to  wear  it,  and  when  you're  at  high  school 
or  college  and  look  to  see  what  time  it  is,  you'll  think 
of  us  way  off  here  at  Orham,  won't  you  ?" 

Bradley  was  a  proud  boy,  and  the  "old  maids" 
were  proud  of  him  when,  with  the  big  watch  in  his 
pocket  and  the  heavy  chain  rattling  against  his  vest, 
the  three  started  for  the  schoolhouse.  On  the  way 
they  caught  up  with  Gus  and  her  grandmother.  It 
was  amusing  to  note  the  condescension  with  which 
the  sisters  treated  the  old  lady.  As  Miss  Tempy 
often  said,  "The  Bakers  are  real  good  meanin'  peo- 
ple, but  the  men  folks  have  never  been  anythin'  but 
fishermen." 

It  was  agreed  that  the  decorations  were  "lovely." 
The  blackboards  had  been  ornamented  by  Mr.  Dan- 
iels with  mottoes,  such  as  "Knowledge  is  Power," 
done  in  different  colored  chalks  and  surrounded  by 
marvelous  flourishes  and  flying  ribbons,  and  impossi- 
ble birds  with  tails  that  poured  from  their  backs  like 
feathered  Niagaras. 

Mr.  Daniels,  himself,  arrayed  in  his  best,  opened 
the  exercises  and  called  upon  the  Reverend  Lang- 
worthy  to  offer  prayer.  As  the  concluding  "Amen" 


82  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

was  uttered,  Miss  Tempy,  sitting  on  the  settee  by 
the  wall,  nudged  her  sister  and  whispered,  "Look, 
Prissy !  I  do  declare  if  there  ain't  Cap'n  Ezra  1" 

Sure  enough,  there  was  the  Captain  on  the  opposite 
settee,  neatly  dressed  as  usual,  and  politely  nodding  to 
them.. 

"When  did  he  come  home?"  whispered  the  nervous 
younger  sister.  "I  didn't  know  he  was  comin'.  But 
then,"  she  sorrowfully  added,  "we  don't  know  any- 
thing about  the  Cap'n  nowadays." 

Miss  Prissy  sedately  returned  the  bow.  "Don't 
look  at  him  so,  Tempy,"  she  muttered.  "If  Cap'n 
Titcomb  sees  fit  to  stay  away  from  our  house,  I  should 
hope  we  could  show  him  we  didn't  care." 

Mr.  Solomon  Bangs,  chairman  of  the  school  com- 
mittee, addressed  the  school.  He  began  with  a  loud 
"Ahem,"  and  proceeded  somewhat  after  this  fashion : 

"Scholars,  I  am — er — glad  to  be  present  on  this — 
er — auspicious  occasion.  It  is,  of  course,  a — ahem 
— pleasure  to  see  you  all  in  your  seats  in  this  school- 
room, studyin'  your  lessons  and  learnin'  to  be  great 
and  good  men  and  women.  I  am  sure  that  every 
boy  and  girl  here  to-day  realizes  the — the — worth  of 
education  and  learnin'.  Your  parents  and  the  com- 
mittee are  here  because  they  realize  it,  and  know  what 
learnin'  has  been  to  them.  Your  teacher  tells  me  that 
you  have  been  a  credit  to  him.  I  am  glad  to  hear  it. 
As  chairman  of  the  committee  havin'  this  school 
under  my  charge,  I  esteem — that  is  to  say — I  feel  sen- 
sible of  my  responsibilities.  The  voyage  of  life  upon 
which  you  are  about  to  step  forth — er — embark,  I 


THE  "LAST  DAY"  83 

should  have  said "  and  so  on,  for  ten  minutes. 

Mr.  Daniels  looked,  becomingly  solemn,  and  the  visi- 
tors whispered  to  one  another  that  it  was  a  "splendid 
speech." 

Then  six  boys  from  the  youngest  class  gave  a  recita- 
tion, each  setting  forth  in  sing-song  verse  what  he 
would  do  "When  I'm  a  man — a  man."  This  was 
voted  "too  cute  for  anything." 

There  were  more  "pieces"  and  a  dialogue.  Then 
the  graduating  class,  the  boys  in  their  "Sunday  suits," 
and  the  girls  in  white  muslin  with  blue  ribbons,  had 
its  turn.  Sam  Hammond  thundered  through  "Spar- 
tacus  to  the  Gladiators."  Clara  Hopkins  recited  an 
original  composition  on  "Our  Duty  in  Life."  It  was 
a  very  serious  "duty,"  and  was  embellished  with  vari- 
ous flowers  of  rhetoric  labeled  "the  sunrise  of  youth," 
"the  dawn  of  womanhood,"  and  the  like.  Bradley 
bravely  tackled  "The  Advantages  of  a  Republican 
Form  of  Government,"  and  when  he  finished  every 
monarch  on  the  globe  was  cowering  beneath  his 
throne,  like  a  cat  under  a  sofa ;  at  least,  if  he  was  not 
actually  cowering  there,  it  was  the  opinion  of  the  "old 
maids"  that  he  would  have  been  if  he  had  heard  that 
composition.  Bradley's  effort  was  enthusiastically 
applauded,  especially  by  Mr.  Seth  Wingate,  who,  be- 
ing a  life-long  Democrat,  was  relieved  to  find  that  the 
boy  had  not,  as  he  feared,  constructed  an  argument 
in  favor  of  the  "Grand  Old  Party." 

Gus  had  been  entrusted  with  the  "Class  Chroni- 
cles." These  were  an  innovation  for  Orham  "Last 
Days,"  the  idea  having  been  imported  from  Middle- 


84  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

boro  by  a  young  lady  who  had  formerly  attended 
school  there,  and  who  said  that  they  always  had 
"Class  Chronicles"  at  schools  that  were  "any  ac- 
count." Gus's  Chronicles  were  witty  and  bright,  and, 
if  some  of  the  jokes  were  old,  they  had  been  made 
over  until,  like  the  "old  maids*  "  dolmans,  they  were 
almost  new  again.  It  must  be  understood,  of  course, 
that  Chronicles  and  compositions  and  *  'pieces"  were 
delivered  with  the  accompaniment  of  pump-handle 
gestures,  conscientiously  copied  from  "Fig.  i,"  "Fig. 
2,"  and  the  rest,  in  the  front  of  the  Sixth  Reader. 

After  the  school  had  done  its  part,  another  com- 
mittee man  spoke.  Mr.  Langworthy  said  a  few 
words;  Mr.  Daniels  repeated  the  statement  that  he 
made  every  year,  namely,  that  this  particular  graduat- 
ing elass  was  the  best  and  most  brilliant  he  had  ever 
taught,  and  then — the  "Last  Day"  was  over. 

That  evening  Bradley  sat  reading  in  the  dining- 
room.  Miss  Tempy,  in  the  sitting-room,  was  going 
over,  for  the  fortieth  time  since  it  was  written,  the 
wonderful  argument  in  favor  of  a  "Republican  Form 
of  Government."  As  her  sister  entered  the  room, 
she  dropped  the  roll  of  paper  in  her  lap  and  said, 
solemnly : 

"Prissy  Allen,  it's  my  belief  that  when  that  boy  first 
came  here  and  I  said  that  I  wanted  him  to  go  to 
college  and  be  a  minister,  I  was  inspired.  I  declare 
I  do!  IVe  jest  been  readin'  that  piece  of  his  again, 
and  it  beats  any  sermon  I  ever  heard." 

Miss  Prissy  seated  herself  in  a  rocker  and  looked 
solemnly  at  her  sister.  For  a  minute  she  gazed  with- 


THE  "LAST  DAT9  85 

out  speaking.  Then,  suddenly,  as  if  she  had  made 
up  her  mind,  she  rose,  gave  the  dining-room  door  a 
swing  that  would  have  shut  it  completely  had  not  the 
corner  of  a  mat  interfered,  and,  coming  back  to  her 
chair,  said,  slowly:  "Tempy,  I'm  afraid  we'll  never 
be  able  to  send  Bradley  to  college." 

The  precious  manuscript  fell  from  Miss  Tempy's 
lap  to  the  floor. 

"Why— why,  Prissy  Allen! "she  exclaimed.  "What 
do  you  mean?" 

"I  mean  we  can't  do  what  we've  hoped  to  do.  Oh, 
dear!  I — I  don't  know  what  we'll  do.  Tempy, 
we've  hardly  got  any  money  left  1" 


CHAPTER    V. 


A  CHANGE  OF  PLANS. 

FOR  a  moment  Miss  Tempy  made  no  reply  to 
her  sister's  speech.     Instead,  she  sat  there 
with  her  eyes  fixed  upon  Miss  Prissy's  face 
and  her  thin  fingers  picking  nervously  at 
her  dress. 

4 'Haven't  got  any  money?"  she  repeated,  after  a 
pause.  "Haven't  got  any  money  left?  Why,  then — 
why,  then,  we'll  have  to  take  it  out  of  the  savin's  bank 
up  to  Boston.  Of  course,  Bradley  must  go  to  college. 
You  know  he  must,  Prissy." 

But  Miss  Prissy  shook  her  head. 
"You  don't  understand,  Tempy,"  she  said,     "I 
ought  to  have  talked  with  you  about  it  long  ago.    I 


A  CHANGE  OF  PLANS  87 

can  see  now  that  I  ought  to ;  but,  oh,  dear !  father  al- 
ways said  you  was  too  delicate  to  bother  with  money 
matters,  and  I've  been  used  to  takin'  all  the  care  my- 
self, and  so  Fve  jest  gone  on  and  on,  worryin'  and 
plannin'  and  layin'  awake  nights  until  I  can't  go  on 
any  further.  Oh,  Tempy,"  she  cried,  and  the  tears 
rolled  down  her  cheeks,  "you  don't  understand.  The 
money  in  the  Boston  bank  has  all  gone  too.  We 
haven't  got  more  than  five  hundred  dollars  left  in  the 

world,  and  when  that's  gone !"  She  waved  her 

hands  despairingly. 

But  still  Miss  Tempy  did  not  comprehend. 

"Why,  all  of  it  can't  be  gone !"  she  said.  "All  of 
the  insurance  money  and  everything!  Why,  it  was 
five  thousand  dollars!"  She  mentioned  the  sum  rev- 
erently and  in  an  awestruck  whisper. 

"Yes,"  said  Miss  Prissy,  trying  hard  not  to  be  im- 
patient; "yes,  'twas  five  thousand  dollars  and  father 
died  over  ten  years  ago,  and  we've  been  livin'  on  it 


ever  since." 


"But  five  thousand  dollars,  Prissy!  Five  thou- 
sand  » 

"Oh,  my  soul  and  body!  Anybody'd  think  'twas 
a  million.  Jest  think,  now;  jest  think!  We've  lived 
on  it  for  prety  nigh  eleven  years ;  paid  for  our  clothes 
and  livin'  and  havin'  the  house  oainted  six  years  ago, 
and " 

"But  it  needed  paintin'." 

"Needed  it!  I  should  think  it  did!  But  it  cost 
more'n  we'd  ought  to  spend,  jest  the  same.  Oh,  it's 
more  my  fault  than  anybody's.  Long's  father  lived, 


88  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

the  place  was  kept  up,  and  you  and  me  was  used  to 
havin'  things  as  good  as  our  neighbors,  and  I  went  on 
and  on,  never  thinkin'  we  was  too  extravagant,  until, 
all  at  once,  the  money  that  we  first  put  in  the  Harniss 
Bank  was  used  up.  And  then  it  come  home  to  me,  as 
you  might  say,  and  I  realized  what  we'd  been  doin'. 
Oh,  IVe  tried  and  tried;  scrimped  here  and  pinched 
there.  What  do  you  s'pose  I  sold  the  woodlot  for? 
And  then  the  cran'by  swamp?" 

"Why,  you  said  we  didn't  need  'em,  and  it  was  too 
much  trouble  to  run  'em." 

"Said!  Oh,  I  don't  doubt  I  said  all  sorts  of  things 
to  keep  you  from  knowin'.  But  I  sold  'em  to  help  pay 
the  bills.  And  then  you  was  took  down  with  the 
typhoid,  and  there  was  that  big  doctor's  bill;  and 
then  Bradley  came  and  he  had  to  have  clothes  and  a 
little  money  to  spend  like  the  other  boys.  And  now !" 

Miss  Prissy  choked,  tried  to  go  on,  and  then  broke 
down  and  cried  heartily  and  without  restraint. 

In  all  the  years  since  the  death  of  Captain  Allen 
Miss  Tempy  had  never  seen  her  common-sense,  prac- 
tical sister  give  way  like  this.  The  sight  alarmed  her 
much  more  than  the  story  of  the  financial  situation 
had  so  far  done.  She  didn't  fully  understand  the  lat- 
ter even  yet,  but  every  one  of  Miss  Prissy's  sobs  was 
to  her  a  call  for  help  that  needed  an  immediate  an- 
swer. 

"There!  there!  there!  dear!"  she  said,  running  to 
the  other  rocker  and  putting  her  arm  around  her  sis- 
ter's neck.  "You  poor  thing!  You  mustn't  cry  like 
that.  You've  jest  worried  yourself  sick.  You're  all 


A  CHANGE  OF  PLANS  89 

worn  out.  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  you've  got  a 
little  cold,  too,  in  that  draughty  schoolhouse.  Let  me 
make  you  a  good,  big  cup  of  pepper  tea  right  away; 
now  do.'1 

Miss  Prissy  turned  a  sob  into  a  feeble  laugh. 

"Oh,  dear  me,  Tempy,"  she  said,  laying  her  hand? 
on  the  other's  arm,  "I  b'lieve  you  think  pepper  tea'll 
cure  anything — even  an  empty  pocketbook.  I  wish 
'twould  pay  bills;  then,  I  don't  know  but  I'd  drink  a 
hogshead.  But  it  won't,  nor  cryin'  won't  either.  Set 
down,  and  I'll  tell  you  jest  how  things  are." 

So  Miss  Tempy,  reluctantly  giving  up  the  "pepper 
tea"  idea  for  the  present,  went  back  to  her  chair,  and 
Miss  Prissy  continued. 

"The  money  in  the  Boston  savin's  bank  is  gone," 
she  said,  "and  a  year  or  more  ago  I  wrote  to  the 
broker  folks  that  bought  the  bond  for  us  when  father 
died,  and  they  sold  it  for  me  and  got  a  little  less  than 
a  thousand  dollars  for  it.  I  put  the  money  into  the 
bank  at  Harniss,  and  though  I've  tried  my  best  to  be 
economical,  there  ain't  but  five  hundred  and  eighty 
left.  That,  and  the  place  here,  is  all  we've  got." 

In  a  bewildered  fashion  Miss  Tempy  strove  to 
grasp  the  situation.  , 

"Then  we're  poor,"  she  said.  "Real  poor,  and  I 
thought  we  was  rich.  Well,  I  shall  give  up  that  new 
bonnet  I  was  goin'  to  have  next  spring,  and  I  s'pose 
I  hadn't  ought  to  subscribe  to  the  Comforter  either. 
I  did  think  so  much  of  it  I" 

"I'm  afraid  we'll  have  to  give  up  more  than  the 
Comforter,  Tempy.  I've  thought  and  thought,  till 


90  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

my  poor  head  is  nearly  worn  through.  We  might  sell 
the  place,  here,  but  'twould  be  like  sellin'  our  everlast- 
in'  souls — if  'tain't  unreligious  to  say  it — and,  besides, 
property  at  Orham  is  so  low  now  that  we'd  only  get 
ha'f  what  it's  worth,  and  when  that  money's  spent 
there  wouldn't  be  anything  left." 

"Sell  the  place !  '  Father's  place !  Why,  Prissy 
Allen,  how  can  you  talk  so !  Where  would  we  live  ?" 

"Well,  we  might  hire  a  little  house  down  at  South 
Orham  or  somewheres." 

"South  Orham !  Where  all  those  Portuguese  and 
things  live?  I'd  rather  die."  And  it  was  Miss 
Tempy's  turn  to  cry. 

"You  needn't  cry  for  that,  Tempy.  We  won't  sell 
yet  a  while.  Not  till  there's  nothin'  left.  But  we 
can't  have  the  barn  shingled,  and  as  for  Bradley's 
goin'  to  college,  that,  I'm  afraid,  is  out  of  the  ques- 


tion." 


"Oh,  dear!  dear!  And  the  barn  looks  awful. 
Melissy  Busteed  was  sayin',  only  last  week,  that  folks 
was  wond'rin'  when  we  was  goin'  to  have  it  fixed. 
And  poor  Bradley !  My  heart  was  set  on  his  bein'  a 
minister.  I  don't  know  but  I'd  live  in  the  poorhouse 
to  make  him  one.  They  say  Mr.  Otis  keeps  a  real 
nice  poorhouse,  too,"  she  added. 

Miss  Prissy  smiled  dolefully.  "It  hasn't  got  to  the 
poorhouse  yet,"  she  said.  "And  I  hope  we  can  send 
Bradley  through  high  school  anyhow.  But  we'll  have 
to  scrimp  awful  and  we  must  try  to  earn  some  money. 
I  was  talkin'  to  Abigail  Mullett  at  the  church  fair  last 
[August,  and  she  spoke  about  those  aprons  and  one 


A  CHANGE  OF  PLANS  91 

thing  another  that  I  made,  and  said  she  never  saw 
such  hemmin'  and  tuckin'.  She  said  she'd  give  any- 
thing if  she  could  get  somebody  to  do  such  work  for 
her  in  the  dressmakin'  season.  I've  been  thinkin' 
maybe  she'd  put  out  some  of  her  work  to  me  if  I 
asked  her  to.  She  does  more  dressmakin'  than  any- 
body around ;  has  customers  'way  over  to  Ostable,  and 
keeps  three  girls  sometimes.  And  you  know  how  the 
summer  folks  bought  those  knit  shawls  of  yours, 
Tempy?  Well,  I  don't  doubt  you  could  get  orders 
for  lots  more.  We'll  try,  and  we'll  let  Bradley  start 
at  high  school  and  see  how  we  make  it  go." 

So  Miss  Tempy  brightened  up,  and  in  a  few  min- 
utes she  had,  in  her  mind,  sold  so  many  shawls  and 
Miss  Prissy  had  done  so  well  with  her  hemming  and 
tucking  that  she  saw  them  putting  money  in  the  bank 
instead  of  taking  it  out.  In  fact,  she  was  getting  rich 
so  fast,  in  her  dreams,  that  her  sister  didn't  have  the 
heart  to  throw  more  cold  water  at  this  time.  And 
even  Miss  Prissy  herself  felt  unwarrantably  hopeful. 
She  had  borne  the  family  burdens  so  long  that  to 
share  the  knowledge  of  them  with  another  was  a  great 
relief.  They  discussed  ways  and  means  for  a  half- 
hour  longer,  and  then  Miss  Tempy  insisted  on  getting 
that  "pepper  tea." 

"I  honestly  believe,"  she  said,  "that  if  I  hadn't  took 
pepper  tea  steady  for  the  last  four  or  five  years  I 
shouldn't  be  here  now.  That  and  Blaisdell's  Emul- 
sion has  given  rne  strength  to  bear  most  anything, 
even  the  prospects  of  the  poorhouse.  Thank  good- 
ness, I've  got  a  new  bottle  of  Emulsion,  and  pepper 


92  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

tea's  cheap,  so  I  shan't  have  to  give  that  up,  even  if 
we  are  poorer'n  Job's  turkey." 

"All  right,"  sighed  Miss  Prissy.  "If  it'll  make 
you  feel  any  better  to  parboil  my  insides  with  hot 
water  and  pepper,  fetch  it  along.  Don't  say  anything 
to  Bradley  about  what  we've  been  sayin'.  'Twon't 
do  any  good,  and  will  only  make  the  poor  child  feel 
bad." 

But  Bradley  was  not  in  the  dining-room.  The  book 
he  had  been  reading  was  turned  face  downward  on 
the  table,  but  he  was  gone,  and  so  was  his  hat. 

"Why,  I  never!"  exclaimed  Miss  Tempy.  uHe 
never  went  out  an  evenin'  before  without  sayin'  any- 
thin'  to  me  or  you.  What  do  you  s'pose  is  the  mat- 
ter?" 

"You  don't  think  he  heard  what  we  said,  do  you?" 
anxiously  asked  her  sister.  "I  thought  I  shut  the 
door." 

"You  did  shut  it,  but,  now  you  speak  of  it,  seems 
to  me  I  remember  it  wasn't  latched  when  I  come  out 
jest  now.  I  hope  he  didn't  hear.  He's  such  a  sensi- 
tive boy;  jest  like  all  the  Aliens." 

"The  "pepper  tea"  was  prepared — a  double  dose 
this  time — and  the  sisters  sat  sipping  it,  Miss  Prissy 
with  many  coughs  and  grimaces,  and  Miss  Tempy 
with  the  appreciation  of  a  connoisseur.  After  a  mo- 
ment's silence  she  said : 

"Prissy,  do  you  know  what  I've  been  thinkin'? 
I've  been  thinkin'  what  a  blessin'  'twould  be  if  we  had 
Cap'n  Titcomb  to  go  to  for  advice  now." 

"Humph !     If  I've  thought  that  once,  I've  thought 


A  CHANGE  OF  PLANS  93 

it  a  million  times  in  the  last  year,"  was  the  decided 
answer. 

It  was  after  ten  o'clock,  and  only  Bradley's  absence 
had  prevented  the  ladies  from  going  up  to  bed,  when 
the  outside  door  of  the  dining-room  opened,  and  the 
missing  boy  came  in. 

"Bradiey  Nickerson,  where've  you  been?'1  ex- 
claimed Miss  Tempy,  running  to  meet  him.  "We've 
been  pretty  nigh  worried  to  death.  Why  don't  you 
shut  the  door  ?  WTho's  that  out  there  ?  Why — why, 
Cap'n  Titcombf" 

"What's  that?"  cried  Miss  Prissy,  hurrying  in. 

"You  don't  mean Well !  Good  evenin',  Cap'n 

Titcomb;  won't  you  step  in?" 

The  Captain  accepted  the  invitation.  He  was  as 
much  embarrassed  as  the  "old  maids,"  even  more  so 
than  Miss  Prissy,  who  immediately,  after  a  swift, 
sidelong  glance  of  disapproval  at  her  agitated  sister, 
assumed  an  air  of  dignified  calmness. 

"How  d'ye  do,  Prissy?"  stammered  the  Captain. 
"Tempy,  I  hope  you're  well.  Yes;  I'm  feelin'  fair  to 
middlin'.  No,  thanks;  I  ain't  goin'  to  stop  long;  it's 
pretty  late  for  calls.  Fact  is,  Brad  here's  got  some* 
thin'  to  say.  Heave  ahead,  Brad." 

The  boy,  too,  was  embarrassed,  but  as  the  two 
looked  at  him  expectantly,  he  fidgetted  with  a  button 
on  his  jacket  and  said: 

"Miss  Prissy,  I  didn't  mean  to  listen,  but  the  door 
wasn't  shut  tight,  and  I  couldn't  help  hearing  what 
you  and  Miss  Tempy  were  saying  a  little  while 
ago." 


94  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

"There!"  exclaimed  Miss  Tempy.  "I  was  afraid 
of  that  door.  You  remember  I  said  so,  Prissy." 

But  Miss  Prissy  didn't  answer;  she  merely  looked 
at  Bradley. 

"I  heard  what  you  said,"  nervously  went  on  the 
boy,  "and  when  you  told  about — about  what  you  was 
going  to  do  so's  I  could  go  to  high  school,  I — I 
thought  first  I'd  come  right  in  and  tell  you  you 
mustn't.  But  then  I  thought  you  wouldn't  believe  I 
meant  it,  or  wouldn't  pay  any  attention  to  it  if  I  did, 
so  I  went  outside  to  think  it  over  by  myself.  And 
then — then  I  went  right  up  to  see  the  Cap'n." 

"I  hope,"  said  Miss  Prissy,  sternly,  "that  you 
didn't  repeat  our  talk  to  Cap'n  Titcomb  without  tell- 
in'  us  you  was  goin'  to." 

"No,  no;  he  didn't,"  hastily  broke  in  the  Captain. 
"He  didn't  tell  a  word.  You've  got  a  pretty  fair  kind 
of  boy  here,  if  you  want  to  know,"  he  added,  with 
more  than  his  usual  enthusiasm. 

"Hum!"  was  Miss  Prissy's  only  comment.  "Go 
on,  Bradley." 

"All  I  told  him  was,"  said  Bradley,  "that  I  didn't 
think  it  was  right  for  me  to  go  to  school  and  college 
when  I  ought  to  be  earning  some  money.  I'm  going 
on  seventeen  now,  and  lots  of  fellows  I  know  are 
going  to  work.  I  don't  b'lieve  I'd  make  a  very  good 
minister,"  with  a  look  of  appeal  at  Miss  Ternpy,  "and 
I'd  a  good  deal  rather  go  to  sea.  All  our  folks  have 
been  to  sea.  My  father  and  my  grandfather.  Yes, 
and  your  father,  too,  you  know."  The  last  as  a  happy 
inspiration. 


A  CHANGE  OF  PLANS  95 

"Don't  you  think  that  we  know  best  what M 

began  Miss  Prissy,  but  the  Captain  again  interrupted 
her. 

"Let  him  spin  his  yarn,  Prissy,"  he  said.  "Nothin1 
is  settled  yet,  so  don't  worry." 

"So  I  went  to  the  Cap'n,"  went  on  Bradley,  "and 
asked  him  if  he'd  take  me  on  board  his  schooner.  I 
ain't  a  sailor,  but  I  know  a  lot  about  boats,  and  I  don't 
get  seasick  even  when  it's  mighty  rough ;  do  I,  Cap'n 
Ezra?" 

"No,"  replied  Captain  Titcomb,  gravely.  "You 
manage  to  keep  your  cargo  from  shiftin'  pretty  well 
for  a  green  hand." 

"And  he  said  he'd  take  me  as  a  kind  of  cabin  boy; 
didn't  you,  Cap'n  ?  And  learn  me  things,  and  get  me 
advanced  as  soon  as  I  was  fit  for  it.  And  he'll  pay 
me  wages,  too ;  right  away.  There !  And  I  won't 
cost  you  a  cent  more.  Please  let  me  go  ?" 

"Well,  I  never!"  exclaimed  Miss  Tempy.  She 
would  have  continued,  but  her  sister  spoke. 

"It  seems  to  me,"  said  the  latter,  "that  you  would 
have  done  better  by  us,  Bradley,  if  you'd  asked  our 
advice  before  you  went  to  Cap'n  Titcomb  or  anybody 
else.  We'd  planned  to  give  you  a  good  education,  so's 
you  might  amount  to  somethin'  in  this  world.  Sea- 
gain'  is  all  right — the  land  knows  there's  been  enough 
of  it  in  our  family — but  everybody  says  it  ain't  what 
it  used  to  be,  and  it's  a  dreadful  hard  life.  Boy  on  a 
schooner,  even  with  the  Cap'n  here,  ain't  much  of  a 
place.  It'll  be  a  good  while  'fore  you  amount  to 
much  or  make  much  money." 


96  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

Bradley  would  have  replied,  but  Captain  Titcomb 
held  up  his  hand. 

"Brad,"  he  commanded,  "go  into  the  galley  and 
shut  the  door." 

The  boy  didn't  hesitate ;  he  obediently  turned  and 
went  into  the  kitchen.  The  Captain  looked  after  him 
approvingly. 

"I  like  a  chap  that  obeys  orders,"  he  observed. 
"  Prissy,  you  and  Tempy  know  me,  and  you  know  I 
like  Brad  and  want  to  see  him  do  well.  But  I  want 
to  tell  you  this :  I've  seen  lots  of  boys,  and  I  was  one 
myself,  and  if  a  boy  gits  the  salt  water  notion  into  his 
head,  nothin'll  git  it  out  but  a  good-sized  dose  of  that 
same  water  and  a  first  mate  and  a  rope's  end. 
'Twon't  git  it  out  then,  if  he's  really  got  the  disease, 
but  it'll  prove  whether  it's  growin'  pains  or  the  genu- 
ine rheumatics  mighty  quick.  The  old  man — dad,  I 
mean — was  all  for  makin'  a  doctor  out  of  me,  but 
when  he  caught  me  one  night  with  my  duds  tied  up  in 
a  newspaper  ready  to  run  away  and  ship  on  a  cattle 
boat,  he  give  in.  'Sarah,'  he  says  to  mother,  Tve 
done  my  best  to  raise  a  pill-peddler,  but  it  looks  as  if 
'twas  nothin'  but  a  lob-scouser  after  all.  All  right,' 
he  says;  'if  you're  dyin'  to  eat  salfc-hoss  and  smell 
bilge,  you  can  do  it,  but  you'll  do  it  under  somebody 
that  I  know,  and  not  on  a  floatin'  barnyard.  Cap'n 
Tim  Mayo'll  take  you,  if  I  ask  him  to,'  he  says,  'and 
if  he  don't  work  the  taste  for  pickle  out  of  you,  then 
there  ain't  nothin'  that  can,'  he  says. 

"Well,"  continued  the  Captain,  with  a  twist  of  his 
mouth,  "Cap'n  Tim  tried;  I'll  say  that  for  him.  I'll 


A  CHANGE  OF  PLANS  97 

never  forgit  that  first  v'yage.  But  when  I  come 
home  and  told  the  old  man  I  was  goin'  ag'in,  he  held 
up  his  hands.  'That  settles  it,7  says  he;  'you're  goin' 
to  be  the  same  kind  of  a  fool  that  I  am  and  my  father 
was  afore  me.  It's  the  Lord's  doin's,  and  I'm  thank- 
ful I  can  shift  the  blame  onto  Him,'  he  says. 

"So  with  Brad.  If  he's  bound  to  go  to  sea,  he'll 
go,  sometime  or  'nother.  It  was  my  idea  to  take  him 
as  a  sort  of  mixture  of  roustabout  and  cabin  boy,  and 
try  him  out.  If  it  don't  cure  him,  why,  I  need  jest 
such  a  feller  as  he  is  to  make  a  mate  of  some  of  these 
days.  If  it  does  he's  only  wasted  a  summer  vaca- 
tion and  got  a  little  cash  for  it.  Seems  to  me  it's 
worth  the  try.  You  think  it  over,  and  send  me  word 
up  at  the  Trav'ler's  Rest.  I'll  be  there  for  the  next 
week  or  so.  Well,  I  mustn't  stop  any  longer.  Good 
night." 

"But,  Cap'n,"  faltered  Miss  Tempy,  avoiding  her 
sister's  eye,  "won't  you  set  down  jest  a  minute  to — to 
rest  yourself  'fore  you  go  back  home?" 

"No,  thank  you,"  was  the  quick  reply.  "It's  git- 
tin'  so  late  now  that  if  I  ain't  careful  I'll  have  to  git 
up  afore  I  go  to  bed,  like  the  Irishman  Eri  Hedge 
tells  about.  I  hope  you  won't  think  I'm  pokin'  my 
oar  into  this  bus'ness  of  Brad's.  It's  jest  as  I  say;  I 
like  him,  that's  all.  Well,  all  right.  Tell  him  if  he's 
headed  up  my  way  to-morrer  he'd  better  drop  in  and 
have  another  talk.  So  long." 

They  watched  him  go  down  the  walk  and  up  the 
moonlit  road.  Then  Miss  Prissy  shut  the  door,  and, 
after  calling  Bradley  from  the  kitchen,  they  ad- 


98  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

journed  to  the  sitting-room.  Long  after  the  boy  had 
been  sent  to  bed  the  sisters  sat  in  their  rockers,  talking 
of  him,  of  his  future  and  what  it  was  wisest  to  do. 
They  talked  of  the  Captain,  too,  but  only  so  far  as 
Bradley's  sailing  with  him  was  concerned.  It  was  not 
until  they  were  on  their  way  upstairs  that  Miss  Prissy 
said: 

"Tempy,  I'm  wonderin'  if  Cap'n  Ezra's  comin' 
here  to-night  means  that  he'll  come  often,  like  he  used 
to." 

"Was  you  wonderin'  that?"  asked  Tempy.  "I 
was,  too,  but  I  didn't  s'pose  you'd  like  it  if  I  said  any- 
thing 'bout  it.  You  was  so  dreadful  cool  when  he 
was  here." 

But  the  Captain  did  not  again  visit  the  Allen  home, 
although  next  day  Bradley  called  on  him  at  his  room 
in  the  hotel.  They  talked  of  the  proposed  plan,  of 
course,  but  Captain  Titcomb  did  not  urge  its  accept- 
ance. On  the  contrary,  he  spoke  very  plainly  of  the 
disagreeable  features  of  a  sailor's  calling,  and  hinted 
that  being  aboard  a  vessel  was  like  being  in  jail. 
"Only,"  he  said,  "there's  always  a  chance  for  a  feller 
to  break  out  of  jail." 

At  the  end  of  the  interview  he  said:  "Brad,  I  ain't 
askin'  any  questions  'bout  what  made  you  take  this 
sudden  fit,  but  I'd  like  to  know  this :  Do  the  old  maids 
know  'bout  that  Sampson  fund  for  sailors'  children  ? 
They  could  git  over  a  hundred  a  year  out  of  that  if 
they  applied  for  it,  you  understand?" 

"I  don't  believe  they'd  take  a  cent,  if  it  was  any- 
thing like  charity,"  replied  the  boy.  "Miss  Prissy 


A  CHANGE  OF  PLANS  99 

especial ;  she's  awful  down  on  folks  that  she  says  are 
living  on  charity." 

"Urn,  hum !  I  see.  Well,  I  know  a  feller  that's 
one  of  the  head  cooks  and  bottle-washers  of  the  Samp- 
son crew.  Maybe  I  could  rig  it  so's Well,  never 

mind;  don't  say  nothin'  yet." 

Three  days  later  it  was  settled;  Bradley  was  to  go 
to  Boston  the  following  Monday  with  Captain  Tit- 
comb  and  ship  with  him  as  the  combination  "boy  and 
roustabout"  for  a  period  of  three  months.  Really,  it 
was  settled  when  the  Captain  suggested  it,  but  it  took 
some  time  for  the  "old  maids"  to  formally  make  up 
their  minds  to  the  decided  change  and  for  Miss 
Tempy  to  get  rid  of  her  desire  for  a  clergyman  in  the 
family. 

"Well,  Prissy,"  she  said,  "if  we  can't  have  a  minis- 
ter, I  think  I'd  rather  have  a  sea  cap'n  than  most  any- 
thing else.  You  see,  there's  always  been  at  least  one 
cap'n  among  the  Aliens.  P'raps  Bradley — he's  so 
smart — will  git  to  be  cap'n  of  a  great  steamer  like  one 
of  the  Fall  River  boats.  P'raps  he  really  will  be 
cap'n  of  a  Fall  River  boat.  Jest  think !  Then  you 
and  me  might  go  to  New  York  again;  or,  if  Bradley 
took  us  to  New  York  for  nothin',  p'raps  by  that  time 
we  could  afford  to  go  on  an  excursion  from  New  York 
to  Washington.  It's  been  one  of  my  dreams  to  go  to 
Washington  and  see  the  President  and  the  Washing- 
ton Monument  and  the  Senators  and  all  the  relics  in 
the  Smithsonian  Institute." 

Bradley  told  Gus  the  great  news  as  soon  as  it  was 
officially  announced  by  Miss  Prissy.  Gus  was  disap- 


ioo  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

pointed  because  her  "chum"  was  not  going  to  high 
school  with  her,  but  she  rejoiced  with  him  upon  his 
freedom  from  the  ministry. 

"I'm  glad  you're  not  going  to  be  a  minister,"  she 
said.  "That  is,  if  you  had  to  be  one  down  here  in 
Orham.  I  should  hate  to  have  you  living  on  five  hun- 
dred a  year  and  donation  parties,  and  your  wife 
scared  to  death  every  time  she  had  a  new  hat  for  fear 
Melissa  Busteed  and  the  rest  would  say  she  was  too 
extravagant.  You're  going  to  go  to  places  and  see 
things.  I  wish  I  was,  instead  of  staying  here  to  study 
lessons  and  read  the  Item  to  grandmother.  'Cap'n 
Jonadab  Wixon  has  treated  his  henhouse  to  a  new 
coat  of  whitewash.'  And  then  grandma  wants  to 
know  what  I  s'pose  he  paid  for  the  whitewash. 
Ugh!" 

"You'll  have  good  times  over  at  Harniss,"  said 
Bradley,  reflectively.  "There's  lots  of  fellows  and 
girls  go  to  high  school  there." 

"Yes,  I  s'pose  so;  but  I'll  miss  you  and  Clara. 
Write  to  me,  won't  you  ?  I  want  to  hear  from  you, 
of  course,  and  besides,  it's  fun  to  go  to  the  postoffice 
and  get  letters  of  your  own." 

"Yes;  I'll  write.  And  you'll  write  to  me,  won't 
you?" 

"Yes;  I'll  write  and  tell  whose  cow  is  dead  and 
how  many  summer  boarders  there  are  in  town, 
and  which  one  of  'Hungry  Bill's'  children  has 
got  the  measles.  Great  things  to  write  about, 
there  are  down  here !"  she  added,  disgustedly. 
"Well,  I  can  write  about  the  parties  I  go  to,  if  I  go 


A  CHANGE  OF  PLANS  101 

to  any.    I  won't  have  anybody  to  go  with,  now  you're 
gone." 

Bradley  had  an  uneasy  notion  that  there  were  plenty 
of  fellows  that  would  be  glad  to  escort  her  to  the 
*  'parties."  It  flashed  across  him  all  at  once  that  Gus 
was  growing  positively  pretty.  It  had  not  occurred  to 
him  before;  that  is,  not  as  it  did  just  then.  It  was 
one  of  the  signs  that  he  was  getting  older. 

4 'Well,  good-bye,"  he  said,  holding  out  his  hand. 

* 'Good-bye, "  said  Gus,  taking  it.  Then  they  shook 
hands,  said  good-bye  again,  and  separated.  Bradley 
almost  wished  he  had  kissed  her,  but  seemed  like  a 
"soft"  thing  to  do  in  cold  blood;  not  like  "forfeits" 
at  a  party,  or  anything  like  that. 

Monday  morning  his  trunk  was  packed,  and  Bar- 
ney Small  called  to  take  him  and  it  to  Harniss.  The 
"old  maids"  wept  over  him,  and  Miss  Prissy  told  him 
to  be  a  good  boy  and  write  once  a  week  at  least. 
Miss  Tempy  said : 

"Remember,  Bradley,  you're  an  Allen  now,  and 
you  must  live  up  to  the  family.  Oh,  Prissy !  Don't 
it  seem  jest  like  it  used  to  when  father  was  goin'  on  a 
voyage?  Bradley's  growin'  to  look  so  like  him." 

And  the  sisters  went  into  the  house  to  cry  together 

The  trip  to  Harniss  in  the  stage  seemed  much 
shorter  than  had  that  in  the  same  vehicle  four  years 
before.  Captain  Titcomb  was  with  him  now,  as 
then,  and  "Foolish  Sol"  came  out  to  beg  tobacco. 
But  his  opportunities  were  growing  less,  for  the  new 
Orham  branch  railroad  was  even  then  under  construc- 
tion and  would  be  finished  in  another  two  years. 


;i02  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

Then  came  the  long  ride  in  the  train  to  Boston. 
Bradley  had  been  as  far  as  Ostable  on  the  memorable 
occasion  when  the  " Jolly  Club"  attended  the  County 
Fair  in  a  body,  a  visit  which  had  caused  that  venerable 
institution  to  sit  up  and  take  notice.  But  he  had  never 
been  farther  in  that  direction,  and  now  he  watched 
while  the  villages  and  towns  they  passed  grew  bigger 
and  closer  together,  saw  in  Brockton  the  first  street 
car  he  had  ever  seen  outside  of  pictures,  saw  rows 
upon  rows  of  brick  buildings,  where  people  lived  all 
together  like  "fiddler  crabs"  in  a  marshbank,  saw 
smoke  and  tangled  spiderwebs  of  railroad  tracks,  and 
then  shot  under  a  great  shed  and  into  a  big  building 
where  there  were  crowds  and  crowds  of  people.  And 
it  was  Boston. 

Then  they  rode  in  one  of  the — to  Bradley — won- 
derful horse  cars,  through  crooked  streets  lined  with 
the  brick  buildings,  and  got  out  in  front  of  a  place 
where  rows  of  masts  fringed  a  long,  narrow  wharf. 
Down  this  they  walked  till  they  came  to  a  three- 
masted  schooner  sitting  high  in  the  water. 

"Brad,"  said  Captain  Titcomb,  clapping  him  on 
the  shoulder,  "that's  your  boardin'-house  for  the  next 
three  months  anyhow.  She's  the  Thomas  Doane. 
What  do  you  think  of  her?'1 


CHAPTER   VI 

THE  THOMAS  DOANE. 

THE  Thomas  Doane,  seen  from  the  wharf  in 
the  faint  light  of  the  street  lamp,  was  a  mere 
shape  of  blackness,  with  masts  like  charcoal 
marks  against  the  sky,  and  a  tangle  of  ropes  running 
up  to  meet  them.     The  windows  of  the  after  deck- 
house were  illuminated,  however,  and  as  Bradley  and 
the  Captain  stepped  from  the  wharf  to  the  rail  and 
from  that  to  the  deck  a  man  came  up  the  companion- 
way  from  the  cabin  and  touched  his  hat.    « 

"Howdy,  Cap'n,"  he  said.   "Glad  to  see  you  back. 
Everything  runnin'  smooth  down  home?" 

103 


io4  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

"Yup,"  answered  the  skipper.  "Smooth  as  a  smelt. 
How's  it  here?" 

"Shipshape,"  was  the  reply.  "The  mainsail's  been 
patched,  and  I've  put  in  the  new  runnin'  riggin'  where 
you  said.  That  fore-topsTs  been  fixed,  too,  as  well's 
we  could  do  it.  She  ought  to  have  a  new  one,  but  I 
s'pose  Williams'll  think  it's  too  expensive,  won't  he?" 

The  Captain's  answer  was  a  grunt  that  might  have 
meant  almost  anything. 

"Brad,"  he  said,  "this  is  Mr.  Bailey,  the  first  mate. 
He'll  be  your  boss,  next  to  me,  after  to-morrer.  Mr. 
Bailey,  this  is  a  new  hand.  He  hasn't  exactly  shipped 
yet,  so  you  needn't  break  him  in  to-night  unless  your 
conscience  troubles  you  too  much." 

The  mate  held  out  a  hand  like  a  ham  covered  with 
red  sole  leather,  and  Bradley  shook  it  fearfully. 

"Relation  of  yours,  Cap'n?"  inquired  Mr.  Bailey. 

"Not  exactly;  and  still,  I  don't  know.  He's  a 
Nickerson,  and  there's  mighty  few  Cape  families  that 
ain't  had  a  Nickerson  hitched  to  'em  somewheres  at 
some  time.  They're  all  over  the  plate,  like  a  b'iled 
dinner.  Is  the  doctor  aboard?  I'm  hungry  and  1 
cal'late  Brad  could  find  storage  room  for  a  little 
freight  somewheres." 

The  cook  was  ashore  just  then,  but  the  mate  said  he 
guessed  he  could  "scratch  grub  enough  together  for 
supper."  Captain  Titcomb,  however,  declined  the  offer 
and  said  that  he  and  Bradley  would  go  up  to  an  "eat- 
in*  house"  somewhere  for  this  time.  So,  after  a  walk 
through  more  of  the  narrow,  crooked  streets,  the  pair 
entered  a  little  battered  restaurant  with  the  sign  "At- 


THE  THOMAS  DOANE  105 

wood's  Oyster  Saloon"  over  the  door,  and  took  seats 
in  one  of  a  row  of  curtained  alcoves  that  seemed  to 
the  boy  more  like  horse  stalls  than  anything  else. 
Then  the  Captain  ordered  oyster  stews  and,  when 
these  had  come  and  gone,  squash  pie  and  coffee. 

After  the  last  crumb  of  the  pie  had  disappeared 
Captain  Titcomb  lighted  a  cigar,  leaned  back  in  the 
corner  of  the  "stall"  and,  with  his  eyes  half-closed 
and  an  odd  expression  about  the  corners  of  his  mouth, 
gazed  at  Bradley  in  silence.  At  length  he  took  the 
cigar  from  his  lips,  flipped  away  the  ash  with  his  little 
finger,  and  said  slowly : 

"Brad,  there's  a  whole  lot  of  things  that  a  green 
hand  has  to  learn  when  he  goes  to  sea,  and  there's  a 
whole  lot  more  he's  got  to  unlearn.  I've  been  won- 
derin'  whether  'twas  best  for  me  to  give  you  the 
course,  so  to  speak,  or  let  you  find  it  out  for  yourself. 
When  I  was  a  little  shaver,  mother  caught  me  with  a 
pocket  full  of  apples  that  I'd  hooked  from  old  man 
Pepper's  orchard  that  was  jest  over  our  back  fence. 
She  give  me  an  awful  talkin'  to,  but  dad  didn't  say 
much.  'Let  him  alone,  Sarah,'  he  says;  'he'll  learn 
by  experience.'  Sure  enough,  in  'bout  a  week,  in 
marches  Pepper,  holdin'  me  by  the  collar  with  one 
hand  and  a  big  switch  in  t'other.  'Sam,'  says  he  to 
dad,  'here's  this  boy  of  yours  been  stealin'  my  apples. 
If  'twas  anybody  else's  child,  I'd  give  him  a  lickin' 
that  he'd  remember.'  Dad  didn't  even  take  his  hands 
out  of  his  pockets.  All  he  said  was,  'Well,  Elkanah, 
'twill  be  your  fault  if  he  steals  any  more.'  Then  he 
went  in  the  house.  Pepper  didn't  know  what  to  make 


106  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

of  it  for  a  minute.  Then  he  sort  of  sized  up  matters. 
'Hum  !'  he  says;  *I  guess  I  won't  take  the  responsibil- 
ity,' and  when  he  got  through  the  switch  wan't  notjh- 
in'  but  a  frazzled  end,  and  I  ain't  cared  much  for  ap- 
ples sence. 

"That  was  what  dad  called  'learnin'  by  experience.' 
I  learned  my  seafarin'  the  same  way,  and  I  ain't  for- 
got the  lesson.  Maybe  that's  why  I'm  goin'  to  tell 
you  a  few  things.  Now,  you  and  me  on  shore  have 
been  sort  of  chums,  ain't  we?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  Bradley,  puzzled  to  know  what 
his  companion  was  driving  at. 

"All  right.  When  we're  on  shore  we'll  be  chums, 
same  as  ever.  But  when  we're  'board  ship,  I'm  skip- 
per and  you're  a  hand;  understand?" 

"Yes,  sir;  I  guess  so." 

"Don't  guess — it  won't  be  any  conundrum.  I'll  be 
Cap'n  Titcomb,  and  Mr.  Bailey'll  be  mate,  and  Mr. 
Saunders — you  haven't  seen  him  yet — he'll  be  second 
mate.  When  one  of  us  three  says,  'Nickerson,  do 
thus  and  so,'  you  do  it,  and  do  it  on  the  jump.  Don't 
stop  to  think  'bout  it,  or  maybe  you'll  learn  by  expe- 
rience, the  way  I  did.  Aboard  any  vessel  that  I'm 
on  there  ain't  any  pets.  One  man's  good's  another, 
provided  he  does  his  work.  Say  'Aye,  aye,  sir,'  when 
you  git  an  order,  and  don't  guess  at  things.  You  ain't 
paid  to  do  it  yet  awhile.  Let  the  officers  do  the  guess- 
in'.  This  is  pretty  plain  talk,  but  I  don't  want  you  to 
make  any  mistakes.  See  ?" 

"Yes,  sir."    Bradley's  face  was  very  solemn. 

"All  right.    This  seems  tough  now,  but  it  saves  you 


THE  THOMAS  DOANE  107 

from  worryin'  'bout  the  future,  as  the  feller  said  to 
the  pig  afore  he  killed  him.  Come  on  down  aboard, 
and  we'll  turn  in." 

As  they  came  out  on  the  sidewalk  the  Captain 
looked  down  at  the  boy  and  smiled. 

"Brace  up,  Brad,"  he  said,  giving  the  new  hand  a 
hearty  slap  on  the  back.  "You'll  do  all  right.  Don't 
worry." 

That  night  Bradley  slept  in  the  second  mate's  room 
off  the  cabin,  but  it  was  understood  that  hereafter  he 
was  to  bunk  forward  with  the  crew.  The  next  morn- 
ing the  Captain  took  him  up  to  a  store  on  Commercial 
street,  where  a  sailor's  bag  was  purchased,  for,  so  the 
skipper  said,  nobody  but  a  landlubber  took  a  trunk 
to  sea.  It  must  be  either  a  chest  or  a  bag,  and  the 
chest  would  come  later  on.  Bradley  transferred  such 
of  his  belongings  as  the  Captain  deemed  necessary 
from  the  trunk  to  the  bag,  and  the  trunk  itself  was 
stored  in  the  wharfinger's  office  until  its  owner  should 
call  for  it  some  time  in  the  future. 

The  second  mate,  a  thin  young  man,  with  hair  and 
face  both  a  flaming  red,  came  on  board  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  the  crew  were  already  there.  Then  a  tug 
took  the  Thomas  Doane  in  tow  and  pulled  her  out  of 
the  dock  and  around  to  another  wharf,  where  she  was 
to  receive  her  cargo  of  lumber.  And  from  the  mo- 
ment when  the  tug's  hawser  was  attached  Bradley 
began  to  realize  what  Captain  Titcomb  had  meant  by 
his  advice  of  the  previous  night. 

It  was  "Here,  boy!  stand  by  to  take  a  hand  with 
that  rope,"  or  "You,  boy — what's  your  name — git  a 


1 08  PAR  TNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

bucket  and  swab  up  that  mess  on  the  deck.  Lively ! 
D'you  hear?"  The  cook  was  a  little  Portuguese  and 
he  delighted  to  haze  his  new  assistant;  so  when,  at 
nine  o'clock  or  so,  Bradley  tumbled  into  his  bunk  in 
the  smoke-reeking  fo'castle,  he  was  tired  enough  to 
drop  asleep  even  in  the  midst  of  yarns  and  profanity. 

The  lumber,  in  the  hold  and  on  the  decks,  was  at 
last  on  board,  and  one  morning  the  schooner,  with  all 
sail  set,  passed  Minot's  Light,  bound  for  New  York. 
The  afternoon  of  that  day  was  a  dismal  experience 
for  Bradley.  The  Thomas  Doane  was  heavily  loaded, 
and  she  swashed  and  wallowed  through  the  good- 
sized  waves  with  a  motion  so  entirely  different  from 
that  of  the  catboats  which  the  boy  had  been  used  to 
that  he  was  most  heartily  and  miserably  seasick. 

That  evening,  with  lee  rail  almost  awash,  they  were 
off  the  bank  of  the  Cape,  and  the  lights  at  Orham 
showed  clear  on  the  horizon.  It  was  really  a  reefing 
breeze,  but  Captain  Titcomb  had  a  reputation  for  rec- 
ord trips  to  sustain,  and  he  didn't  reef  until  there  was 
danger  of  carrying  away  the  canvas.  Bradley,  for  a 
moment  idle,  was  leaning  on  the  bulwarks,  staring 
dolefully  at  the  distant  lights,  when  a  man  came  close 
beside  him  and  said,  in  a  half-whisper:  "Well,  Brad, 
how'd  you  like  to  be  in  the  old  maids'  dinin'-room 
jest  about  now?" 

The  new  hand  glanced  hurriedly  up  and  saw  the 
skipper. 

"Very  much,  sir,"  he  answered,  truthfully. 

The  Captain  chuckled.  "I  shouldn't  wonder,"  he 
said.  "Never  mind ;  swallow  hard  and  hope  you  like 


THE  THOMAS  DOANE  109 

it.     That's  'bout  all  a  sailor  lives  on,  is  hope.    That's 
why  the  sign  of  it's  an  anchor,  I  guess." 

A  voice  called  from  the  galley. 

"Boy!"  it  wailed.  "Neeckerson!  Where  ees  that 
no  good  boy?  Boy!" 

"Aye,  aye,  sir!"  shouted  Bradley,  and  jumped  to 
receive  a  kettle  of  greasy  dish  water,  the  sight  and 
smell  of  which  did  not  make  him  feel  any  happier 
just  then. 

But  seasickness  and  homesickness  were  forgotten 
on  the  day  of  the  wonderful  sail  through  Long  Island 
Sound.  They  passed  schooners  of  all  shapes  and 
sizes,  loaded  till  the  decks  were  scarcely  above  water, 
or  running  light  and  high  in  ballast.  Sharp-nosed 
schooners  with  lines  like  those  of  a  yacht,  and  clumsy 
old  tubs  with  dirty  sails,  with  patches — varying  from 
new  white  to  a  dingy  gray — plastered  all  over  them. 
They  overtook  stubby  sloops,  heaped  with  cut  granite 
or  brick,  and  steered  by  a  big  tiller,  and  were  in  turn 
overtaken  or  met  by  excursion  steamers,  freight 
steamers,  or  an  occasional  ocean-going  tug  with  a 
string  of  coal  barges  towing  behind.  The  Sound 
was  a  highway,  a  sea  street,  crowded  with  traffic, 
and  through  it  the  Thomas  Doane  picked  her  way 
serenely  with  a  fair  wind  to  help,  and  a  white 
ribbon  of  foam  trailing  from  either  side  of  her 
bow. 

She  wasn't  a  new  vessel — even  Bradley  could  see 
that  she  was  old  and  weather-beaten — but  she  was 
kept  as  clean  as  scouring  could  make  her,  and  paint 
was  used  liberally.  A  man  with  a  paint  bucket  and 


1 1  o  PAR  TNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

another  with  a  swab  were  nearly  always  to  be  seen 
busy  about  the  Thomas  Doane. 

Night,  and  they  were  fast  to  a  big  wharf,  with 
lights  all  about  them;  lights  piled,  row  after  row, 
up  to  meet  the  stars;  lights  fringing  the  river  or 
moving  up  and  down  and  across  it ;  lights  in  the  arch- 
ing curve  of  the  bridge  that  Bradley  had  seen  so 
often  in  pictures.  Whistles  sounding,  bells  ringing, 
distant  shoutings,  and  the  never-ceasing  undercurrent 
of  hum  and  roar  that  is  New  York,  breathing  stead- 
ily and  regularly. 

On  the  following  morning  Captain  Titcomb  left 
the  schooner  and,  after  an  hour  or  two,  returned  with 
a  sharp-eyed  man  who  smoked  continuously,  although 
the  wharf-signs  shouted  in  six-inch  letters  that  no 
smoking  was  allowed,  and  who  said  little  but  looked 
a  great  deal.  Bradley  learned  from  the  cook,  who 
had  been  along  the  water  front  and,  having  fallen  in 
with  some  friends,  was  mellow  and  inclined  to  be 
confidential,  that  the  sharp-eyed  man  was  Mr.  Will- 
iams, the  junior  member  of  the  firm  that  owned  the 
Thomas  Doane  and  a  half  dozen  other  coasters. 

Mr.  Williams  and  the  Captain  had  a  long  conversa- 
tion in  the  cabin,  and,  after  it  was  over,  the  skipper 
was  a  bit  out  of  temper,  and  his  orders  were  unusually 
crisp  and  sharp.  As  Bradley  brought  the  dinner 
from  the  galley  to  the  cabin  that  noon,  he  heard  a  re- 
mark that  the  Captain  made  in  reply  to  a  question  of 
the  first  mate. 

"Aw,  nothin'  worth  mentionm1,"  he  said.  "It's 
the  old  story.  I  let  him  know  that  I  was  mighty  nigh 


THE  THOMAS  DOANE  in 

sick  of  runnin'  this  floatin'  junk  shop,  and  wanted 
the  new  schooner  when  she  was  ready.  He  soft- 
soddered  me  till  I  felt  slippery  all  over;  told  me  I 
could  git  more  out  of  an  old  vessel  than  any  man  he 
ever  had,  and  that  he  jest  simply  couldn't  shift  me  till 
the  Thomas  Doane  was  ready  for  the  scrap  heap. 
Said  not  to  worry;  the  firm  appreciated  what  I  was 
doin'  and  would  make  it  right  with  me — and  a  whole 
lot  more.  Well,  I  can't  kick  so  fur's  wages  go;  but 
if  it  wan't  that  Williams  Brothers  pay  me  more'n 
ha'f  again  what  most  coastin'  skippers  git,  I'd  chuck 
it  to-morrer  and  hunt  a  new  berth." 

On  one  memorable  evening  the  Captain,  having 
previously  whispered  to  Bradley  to  put  on  his  "Sun- 
day togs,"  sent  the  boy  on  an  errand  to  a  cigar  store 
near  the  wharf  and  told  him  to  wait  there  "for  fur- 
ther orders."  In  a  little  while  he,  himself,  came  into 
the  store,  commanded  Bradley  to  "lay  alongside  and 
say  nothin',"  and  the  pair  walked  briskly  across  the 
city  to  the  elevated  railway  station.  Then  they  rode 
uptown,  had  a  six-course  dinner  in  a  marvelous  res- 
taurant, where  an  orchestra  played  while  you  ate,  and 
then  went  to  the  theatre  to  see  a  play  called  "The 
Great  Metropolis."  It  was  all  real  to  Bradley,  and 
he  thrilled,  wept  and  laughed  alternately;  but  the 
Captain  was  disgusted. 

"I  swan  to  man !"  he  ejaculated,  as  they  went  out, 
after  the  villain  had  becomingly  shot  himself,  and 
the  hero  and  heroine  were  clasped  in  each  other's 
arms,  "blessed  if  them  plays  with  sea  scenes  in  Jem 
don't  make  me  sick.  Did  you  notice  that  life-savin* 


1 1 2  PAR  TNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

business?  Ship  aground  in  the  breakers,  with  her 
bowspit  stickin'  ten  foot  over  dry  land,  and  the  crew 
took  off  in  the  breeches  buoy!  If  they'd  swung  out 
on  the  jib-boom  and  dropped,  they'd  have  landed  on 
the  roof  of  the  life-savin'  station.  And  it  thunderin' 
and  lightnin'  and  snowin'  all  at  the  same  time !  That 
kind  of  weather  would  make  the  Old  Farmers'  Al- 
manac jealous." 

On  the  way  down  in  the  elevated  he  said,  with  a 
whimsical  smile,  "Brad,  I  cal'late  if  the  old  maids 
knew  I  took  you  to  the  theatre  they'd  think  you  was 
slidin'  a  greased  pole  to  perdition,  wouldn't  they?" 

Bradley  smiled  also  as  he  answered:  "No,  sir; 
I  guess  they'd  think  if  you  did  it  'twas  all  right." 

Captain  Titcomb  grinned,  but  he  made  no  com- 
ment on  the  reply.  All  he  said  was:  "Well,  Orham's 
Orham,  and  New  York's  New  York,  and  the  way 
things  looks  depends  consider'ble  on  which  end  of  the 
spyglass  you  squint  through.  Anyhow,  p'raps 
you'd  better  not  put  this  cruise  down  in  the  log." 

But  Bradley  did  put  it  down  in  the  log;  that  is  to 
say,  he  wrote  a  full  account  of  this,  the  greatest  even- 
ing of  his  life,  in  his  next  letter  to  the  sisters.  His 
habit  of  scrupulous  honesty  still  clung  to  him,  and  he 
did  not  evade  or  cover  up.  If  he  did  a  thing  it  was 
done  because  he  thought  it  right,  and  other  considera- 
tions counted  for  little. 

He  had  received  three  letters  from  home  already. 
One,  from  Miss  Prissy,  gave  him  all  sorts  of  advice 
concerning  his  clothes,  his  health,  and  so  on.  Miss 
Tempy,  through  sixteen  pages  closely  written,  built 


THE  THOMAS  DOANE  113 

one  air  castle  after  another.  He  was  by  this  time, 
in  her  mind,  sure  to  become  commander  of  an  ocean 
liner,  and  she  was  now  busily  planning  a  trip  to 
Europe.  As  for  financial  matters,  all  was  serene. 
She  had  knit  nearly  half  a  shawl  already. 

Gus  wrote  town  gossip,  spiced  with  comment.  In 
one  paragraph  she  said:  "The  whole  village  is  talk- 
ing about  your  sailing  with  Captain  Ezra.  Every- 
body thinks  it  is  a  good  joke  on  the  'old  maids.' 
Some  people  think  it  is  dreadful  and  that  you  are 
sure  to  be  ruined.  Melissa  Busteed  told  grand- 
mother that  the  idea  of  trusting  an  innocent  young 
man  to  such  a  'worldly  critter'  as  the  Captain  was  a 
'cryin'  sin.'  She  said  somebody  ought  to  warn  Prissy 
and  Tempy  against  him,  and  that  she  didn't  know  but 
it  was  her  duty  to  do  it  herself.  I  don't  think  it 
would  be  very  healthy  for  her  if  she  did,  do  you  ?" 

Occasions  like  the  theatre  trip  were  few  and  far 
apart.  For  the  most  part,  Captain  Titcomb  was 
skipper  and  Bradley  was  the  "hand."  With  every 
voyage,  sometimes  to  Portland,  to  Portsmouth,  to 
Boston,  and,  of  course,  to  New  York,  the  boy  learned 
new  things  about  his  chief  officer  and  to  understand 
him  better. 

He  learned  why  it  was  that  the  Captain  received 
so  many  presents  and  was  considered  such  a  "slick 
article."  His  acquaintance  among  seafaring  men 
and  ship  owners  was  large,  and  he  was  always  ready 
to  do  "little  favors."  Sometimes  a  captain,  just  in 
from  a  foreign  cruise,  had,  hidden  away,  two  or  three 
pieces  of  silk,  or  jewelry,  or  even,  in  one  case,  a  piano, 


ii4  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

that  were  intended  for  gifts  to  the  folks  at  home,  and 
to  the  cost  of  which  the  custom  house  duty  would  be 
an  uncomfortable  addition.  Then  Captain  Titcomb 
visited  that  ship,  purely  as  a  social  function,  and  when 
he  came  away  the  jewelry  or  silk  came  with  him.  In 
the  piano  affair,  it  was  bribery  pure  and  simple,  with 
the  addition  of  a  little  bullying  of  an  inspector  who 
had  made  a  few  slips  before  that  the  Captain  knew  of. 
Petty  smuggling  like  this  Captain  Titcomb  did  not 
consider  a  sin  worth  worrying  about.  There  was  a 
smack  of  adventure  in  it  and  the  fun  of  "taking 
chances,"  that  Captain  Eri  had  mentioned. 

Then,  as  a  bargainer  and  a  driver  of  sharp  trades 
with  shipping  merchants  and  others,  the  Captain  was 
an  expert.  He  liked,  as  he  said,  to  "dicker,"  and, 
besides,  he  was  always  on  the  lookout  to  further  the 
interest  of  his  owners.  Looking  out  for  the  owners 
was  his  hobby  and  explained,  in  a  measure,  why  Will- 
iams Brothers  were  willing  to  pay  him  more  than 
they  paid  their  other  skippers. 

He  was  a  "driver"  with  his  crews,  and  every  par- 
ticle that  was  in  the  rickety  Thomas  Doane  he  got 
out  of  her.  He  was  easy  so  long  as  a  man  obeyed 
orders,  but  at  the  slightest  hint  of  mutiny  things  hap- 
pened. There  was  one  instance  of  this  on  Bradley's 
first  trip  out  of  New  York  to  Portland. 

There  was  a  big  Swede  among  the  crew,  a  new 
hand,  who  had  shipped  in  Boston.  He  had  been  as 
meek  and  as  docile  as  a  truck  horse  all  the  way  over, 
but  early  on  the  morning  when  the  schooner  was  pass- 
ing through  Vineyard  Sound  bound  east,  Bradley, 


THE  THOMAS  DOANE  1 1 5 

from  the  door  of  the  galley,  saw  Saunders,  the  second 
mate,  in  consultation  with  Mr.  Bailey.  The  pair 
looked  troubled  and  kept  glancing  at  the  fo'castle 
hatch. 

Finally  the  first  mate  walked  forward  and  called 
down  the  hatch,  "Hey,  you,  Swensen!  Tumble  up 
here,  lively!" 

The  watch  on  deck  looked  interested.  From  the 
fo'castle  came  a  growl  from  Swensen,  and  a  smoth- 
ered laugh  from  some  one  else. 

"Lively,  now!  d'you  hear?"  shouted  Mr.  Bailey. 
"Tumble  up !  If  I  come  down  there  you'll  have  to 
be  carried." 

After  a  moment  of  silence  there  was  the  sound  of 
heavy  boots  on  the  ladder  and  the  Swede  appeared. 
His  eyes  were  bloodshot  and  ugly  and  he  staggered 
a  little  as  he  walked.  Mr.  Saunders  stepped  forward 
and  stood  at  the  side  of  his  fellow-officer. 

"Where'd  you  git  your  rum?"  demanded  Bailey. 
"Roust  out  that  bottle  and  heave  it  overboard." 

Swensen  looked  sullen,  but  didn't  answer. 

"Roust  out  that  bottle,"  repeated  the  first  mate. 
"D'you  hear?" 

The  Swede  clenched  his  fists.  His  little  eyes  were 
half  closed  and  he  glanced  swiftly  at  the  two  mates. 
The  sailors  on  deck  had  stopped  work  to  watch  the 
proceedings,  and  there  was  a  head  or  two  at  the 
hatch.  It  was  no  time  for  argument.  Both  mates 
sprang  at  the  rebel.  Swensen  roared  and  jumped  to 
meet  them.  His  enormous  fist  caught  Saunders 
under  the  chin  and  the  second  mate  struck  the 


n6  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

deck  with  a  thump  and  lay  still,  completely  "knocked 
out." 

Mr.  Bailey — he  was  an  old  man  whose  fist-fighting 
days  were  over — turned  and  ran  to  the  after  com- 
panion. Just  as  he  was  about  to  descend,  he  was 
met  by  Captain  Titcomb.  The  latter  was  in  his  stock- 
ing feet  and  without  a  coat. 

"What's  the  row?"  he  asked. 

"That  darned  Swede  is  drunk  and  raisin'  the 
devil,"  shouted  the  excited  first  mate.  "Jest  let  me 
git  my  revolver.  I'll  1'arn  him  somethin'." 

"Revolver  nothin',"  said  Captain  Ezra.  "You 
don't  need  a  revolver." 

He  walked  briskly  forward  and  confronted  the 
giant,  who  was,  at  the  moment,  in  a  mood  where 
murder  was  a  pleasure.  "Put  down  your  hands  1" 
commanded  the  Captain. 

"Look  out  for  him,"  warned  Mr.  Bailey.  "He's 
an  ox.  He's  jest  b*t  Saunders;  and  killed  him,  too, 
for  what  /  know." 

"Put  down  your  hands!"  repeated  the  skipper, 
calmly. 

Instead  of  putting  them  down  the  Swede  struck  his 
two  fists  together  and,  with  a  howl,  leaped  at  the 
little  man  in  front  of  him.  The  Captain  calmly 
stepped  aside,  stuck  out  his  foot,  and  the  giant,  trip- 
ping over  it,  fell  headlong.  As  he  struggled,  swear- 
ing, to  his  knees,  he  was  hit  just  under  the  eye  and 
fell  again. 

"Put  down  your  hands !"  repeated  the  Captain,  in 
exactly  the  same  calm,  matter-of-fact  tone. 


THE  THOMAS  DOANE  117 

"You  go "  began  Swensen,  but  the  back  of  his 

head  struck  the  deck  so  emphatically  that  he  didn't 
finish.  After  two  more  of  these  acrobatic  perform- 
ances he  concluded  not  to  get  up,  and  lay  still,  look- 
ing rather  dazed  and  very  much  surprised. 

"Ready  to  put  down  your  hands?"  inquired  Cap- 
tain Ezra. 

"Yas,  sir,"  said  Swensen. 

"Ready  to  turn  to  and  obey  orders?" 

"Yas,  sir.n 

"All  right.     Where's  the  rum?" 

"In  my  chist." 

"One  bottle  or  more?" 

"Yust — yust  von,  sir,  I  tank." 

"You  tank?  O'Leary,"  to  one  of  the  crew  at  the 
hatch,  "go  to  this  feller's  chist  and  bring  up  that  bot- 
tle and  heave  it  overboard.  If  there's  any  more 
liquor  aboard  here  anywheres,  bring  that,  too.  Don't 
forgit  to  find  all  there  is,  or  your  mem'ry'll  be  fresh- 
ened up  in  a  hurry.  Lively  now!" 

Two  bottles — one  a  third  full  of  Jamaica  rum  and 
the  other  half  full  of  gin — were  brought  out  and 
thrown  overboard. 

"Humph!"  grunted  the  Captain.  "I  jedge  some- 
body else  felt  the  need  of  a  little  eye-opener  this 
mornin'.  There's  consider'ble  of  this  hulk  here,  but 
he  didn't  stow  away  all  that's  missing  from  them  bot- 
tles." Then  his  tone  changed  and  he  turned  savagely 
to  the  rest  of  the  crew. 

"Is  there  anybody  else  here  that  doubts  who's  run- 
nin'  this  schooner?"  he  asked.  "If  there  is,  now's 


1 1 8  PAR  TNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

his  time  to  be  argued  with.  No?  Well,  all  right. 
I  jedge,  then,  that  you're  willin'  to  do  your  drinkin' 
on  shore.  Mr.  Bailey,  set  that  feller/'  pointing  to 
Swensen,  "to  work  and  keep  him  at  work  till  we  git  to 
the  dock.  If  he  quits,  send  for  me.  When  I  can't 
handle  a  drunk  without  a  revolver,  let  me  know,  will 
you?" 

As  he  passed  the  galley  and  saw  Bradley's  pale, 
frightened  face  looking  out  at  him,  the  Captain  did 
not  smile  nor  speak,  but  his  left  eyelid  quivered  for 
an  instant.  It  was  a  most  reassuring  wink  and  argued 
for  the  serenity  and  self-confidence  of  the  winker. 
Bradley  had  idolized  his  captain  before;  he  would 
have  jumped  overboard  for  him  cheerfully  after  that. 

And  so  the  Thomas  Doane  passed  and  repassed 
Cape  Cod  on  her  short  voyages,  and  Bradley,  with 
every  trip,  learned  more  of  the  sea  and  the  seaman's 
life.  At  the  end  of  his  three  months  he  went  home 
for  a  week's  stay,  but  he  had  already  made  up  his 
mind  to  return  to  the  schooner  again.  Captain  Tit- 
comb  had  said  that  he  was  pleased  with  him,  and 
hinted  at  a  steady  rise  in  wages  and  promotion,  later 
on.  He  was  earning  his  living  now — it  cost  little 
to  live — and  he  sent  home  a  few  dollars  to  the  "old 
maids"  every  now  and  then. 

His  first  home-coming  was  a  great  event.  The 
supper  that  first  night  was  almost  equal,  in  the 
amount  of  food  on  the  table,  to  his  dinner  with  the 
Captain  at  the  New  York  restaurant.  In  fact,  Brad- 
ley, released  from  salt  junk  and  fo'castle  grub,  ate  so 


THE  THOMAS  DOANE  1 19 

much  that  he  suffered  with  the  nightmare  and  groaned 
so  dismally  that  the  alarmed  sisters  pounded  on  his 
chamber  door,  and  Miss  Tempy  insisted  that  what 
he  needed  was  a  dose  of  "Old  Dr.  Thomas1  Discov- 
ery"— her  newest  patent  medicine — and  a  "nice  hot 
cup  of  pepper  tea." 

There  was  no  music  during  the  meal,  but  the  "old 
maids"  talked  continuously.  The  hemming  and  the 
shawl  industry  were  bringing  in  some  money,  though 
not  yet  what  Miss  Tempy  anticipated,  and  they  had 
had  a  windfall  in  the  shape  of  a  contribution  from 
the  Sampson  fund. 

"You  see,"  explained  Miss  Tempy,  "it  come  so 
sudden  that  it  seemed  almost  like  Providence  had 
heard  us  talkin'  that  night  and  provided  for  us  same 
as  it  did  for  Jonah  in  the  Bible,  when  the  robins  fed 
him." 

'Twan't  Jonah,"  broke  in  Miss  Prissy,  "  'twas 
Elijah,  and  they  wan't  robins  but  ravens." 

"Never  mind,  'twas  birds  and  they  fed  somebody. 
I'm  sure  poor  Jonah  needed  it,  after  the  time  he  had, 
bein'  eat  up  by  whales  and  things.  Well,  anyway, 
Prissy  got  a  letter  from  the  Sampson  folks,  and  they 
said  that  there  was  a  fund  for  mariners'  children — 
of  course,  we  ain't  children  any  more — but  then " 

"We're  all  the  children  father  had,"  interrupted 
the  older  sister.  "The  letter  said  that  there  was 
money  due  us  from  the  fund,  and  that  we  was  en- 
titled to  so  much  every  year,  most  a  hundred  dollars. 
Now  I  knew  about  the  Sampson  thing,  but  /  thought 
'twas  charity  for  poor  people,  and  Tempy  and  me 


120  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

have  got  to  livin'  on  charity — not  yet,  I  hope.  But 
it  seems,  'cordin'  to  the  letters  I  had  from  'em,  that 
the  money  b'longed  to  us,  so " 

"So  we  get  a  check  every  once  in  a  while,"  cried 
Miss  Tempy.  "And  how  they  knew  and  wrote  jest 
at  this  time!  It's  miraculous,  that's  what  it  is, 
miraculous!" 

Bradley  thought  of  his  conversation  with  Captain 
Titcomb  and  the  affair  did  not  seem  so  miraculous, 
but  he  knew  the  Captain  would  not  wish  him  to  ex- 
plain, and  so  said  nothing. 


CHAPTER    VII. 


A  QUESTION  OF  POLICY. 

rE  Thomas  Doane  was  at  her  dock  in  New 
York,  and  Bradley,  now  twenty  years  old  and 
a  "sure  enough"  second  mate,  was  on  her 
deck,  watching  the  foremast  hands  clearing  up  the 
coal  dust  that  begrimed  everything.  The  schooner 
had  carried  coal  for  over  a  year  now,  and  her  latest 
occupation  had  not  improved  her  appearance.  She 
was  old  enough  before,  and  patched  and  mended 
enough,  and  to  turn  her  into  a  collier  seemed  a  final 
humiliation.  Captain  Titcomb  had  felt  it  keenly, 
and  his  disgust  was  outspoken. 

"Well,  by  crimustee!"  he  had  ejaculated,  when  his 
121 


1 2  2  PAR  TNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

flat-footed  rebellion  had  been  smothered  by  another 
raise  in  salary;  "I  used  to  dream  about  commandin' 
a  Australian  clipper  some  day  or  'nother,  but  I  never 
dreamed  that  I'd  come  to  be  skipper  of  a  coal-hod, 
and  a  second-hand,  rusted  out  coal-hod,  at  that. 
Blessed  if  it  ain't  enough  to  make  the  old  man — dad9 
I  mean — turn  over  in  his  grave!  Come  on,  Brad; 
let's  go  to  the  theatre.  I  want  to  forgit  it." 

His  self-respect  compelled  him  to  scrub  and  scour 
more  than  ever,  and  his  crews  earned  their  wages. 
However,  coal  carrying  seemed  to  be  profitable,  and 
Williams  Brothers  kept  the  old  schooner  at  it,  win- 
ter and  summer. 

And  Bradley  was  second  mate.  The  promotion 
had  been  gradual,  from  "roustabout  and  cabin  boy" 
to  green  hand  and  then  able  seaman,  and,  at  the  be- 
ginning of  his  third  year,  to  the  coveted  officer's  posi- 
tion. He  had  studied  his  profession  with  the  care  he 
gave  to  anything  that  particularly  interested  him. 
Captain  Titcomb  was  giving  him  lessons  in  naviga- 
tion, for,  as  the  Captain  said,  "You  ain't  goin'  to  make 
the  mistake  I  made,  Brad,  and  stick  to  shallow  water 
all  your  life.  I  learned  to  lay  out  a  course  and  take 
a  reck'nin'  years  ago,  and,  though  I  ain't  made  much 
use  of  my  learnin',  I  hope  to  see  you  on  a  steamer's 
bridge  one  of  these  days;  not  runnin'  a  floatin'  fire- 
shovel  like  this  derelict;"  by  which  collection  of  pet 
names  he  meant  the  Thomas  Doane. 

The  Captain  had  another  project  in  his  mind,  a  sort 
of  secret  hobby  that  he  hinted  at  every  little  while,  but 
never  told.  These  hints  usually  followed  a  particu- 


A  QUESTION  OF  POLICY  123 

larly  disagreeable  trip,  or  when  the  rickety  Thomas 
Doane  behaved  even  more  like  a  cantankerous  old 
maid  than  was  her  wont.  Then,  when  he  and  Brad- 
ley were  alone,  the  Captain  would  wake  from  a  day- 
dream to  say: 

"Brad,  I  git  more  and  more  sick  of  this  bein'  some- 
body else's  errand  boy  every  minute.  Some  of  these 
days  I'm  goin'  to  take  a  whack  at  somethin'  diff'rent, 
and  I  have  a  notion  what  'twill  be,  too.  I  guess  likely 
I  may  ask  you  to  come  in  with  me.  I  b'lieve  it's  a 
good  notion.  Tell  you  'bout  it  some  day." 

But  he  never  did. 

Bradley  had  grown  tall  and  broad  during  his  term 
of  cruising.  He  had  learned  self-reliance,  and  his 
voice  had  a  masterful  ring.  When  he  went  back  to 
Orham  nowadays  the  "old  maids"  took  special  de- 
light in  having  him  escort  them  to  church,  and  Miss 
Tempy's  eyes  during  the  sermon  were  more  often 
fixed  upon  him  than  upon  the  minister.  The  money 
that  he  sent  the  sisters  amounted  to  something  now, 
and  he  had  an  account  in  the  savings  bank. 

Now,  as  he  stood  by  the  rail,  with  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  he  heard  a  step  on  the  wharf  behind  him  and 
turned  to  see  Captain  Titcomb  jump  from  the  string- 
piece,  catch  the  shroud  and  swing  aboard.  The  Cap- 
tain's usually  good-natured  face  had  a  scowl  on  it, 
and  he  was  plainly  not  happy. 

Bradley  touched  his  cap.  "How  are  things  going 
up  at  the  office?"  he  asked. 

"Plumb  to  the  devil,"  was  the  short  reply.  Then, 
glancing  up  at  the  young  man's  face  and  looking  hur* 


i24  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

riedly  away  again,  he  added,  uCome  aft;  I  want  to 
talk  to  you." 

Seated  in  the  dingy  cabin,  the  Captain  took  a  cigar 
from  his  pocket,  bit  off  the  end  with  a  jerk  and 
smoked  in  great  puffs.  Bradley  waited  for  him  to 
speak;  the  skipper's  ill-humor  and  obvious  discontent 
had  come  upon  him  the  aternoon  of  the  day  the 
Thomas  Doane  reached  port  and  had  grown  steadily 
worse.  Each  morning  Captain  Titcomb  had  spent  at 
the  office  of  Williams  Brothers,  and  when  he  re- 
turned to  the  schooner  he  had  done  little  but  smoke, 
scowl  and  pace  the  deck.  The  second  mate  was  wor- 
ried, but  he  asked  no  questions. 

"Brad,"  said  the  Captain,  looking  at  the  shabby 
carpet  on  the  cabin  floor,  "we're  goin'  to  have  a  new 
mate." 

Bradley  was  surprised.  "Is  Mr.  Bailey  going  to 
leave?"  he  asked.  The  old  first  mate  had  been  as 
much  a  part  of  the  Thomas  Doane  as  her  mainmast. 

"They've  given  him  the  Arrow — the  new  schooner. 
He's  goin'  to  run  her." 

"Why,  why!  Cap'n  Ezra!  I  thought  she  was 
promised  to  you." 

"I  thought  so,  too,  but  I  missed  my  reck'nin',  it 
seems.  Williams — he  ain't  ha'f  the  man  his  brother 
was — he  wants  me  to  wait  till  the  other  one — the 
four-master — 's  off  the  ways.  Then  I  can  have  her 
— if  I  want  her." 

"But  she  won't  be  ready  for  six  months,  though  1 
guess  from  what  I  hear  she'll  be  worth  waiting  for. 
Who'll  have  the  old  Doane  then?" 


A  Q  UES  TION  OF  POL  1C  Y  125 

Captain Titcomb  crossed  his  legs,  but  didn't  answer. 
Instead  he  asked:  "Brad,  how  would  you  like  to 
sail  under  Bailey?  You  and  him  got  'long  first  rate. 
I  wouldn't  wonder  if  I  could  git  you  the  second  mate's 
berth  on  the  Arrow.  She's  bran-new  and  clean;  not 
like  this  hen-coop,"  and  he  kicked  a  stateroom  door 
with  emphasis. 

Bradley  did  not  hesitate.  "I  guess  if  you  can 
stand  the  hen-coop,  I  can,"  he  said,  decisively.  "I'd 
rather  wait  with  you,  thank  you." 

"I  don't  know's  you'd  better.  Look  here,"  and 
for  the  first  time  the  Captain  raised  his  eyes.  "You 
know  I  wouldn't  try  to  influence  you  if  'twan't  for 
your  own  good.  I  honestly  think  'twould  be  better 
for  you  if  you  sailed  on  the  Arrow" 

"But  why?" 

"Oh !  because.  Bailey's  a  good  man  and  an  Al 
sailor." 

"He  isn't  half  the  sailor  you  are ;  nor  half  the  man, 
either." 

"Much  obliged.  I'll  stand  for  the  sailor  part,  but 
I  ain't  so  sure  about  the  rest.  Brad,  sometimes  I  wish 
I  hadn't  stuck  so  close  to  'owners'  orders'  and  had 
took  a  few  observations  on  my  own  hook.  Maybe 

then But  it's  hard  for  an  old  dog  to  learn  new 

tricks.  I  s'pose  I'm  a  fool  to  worry.  Money's  'bout 
all  there  is  in  this  world,  ain't  it?" 

"A  good  many  folks  seem  to  think  it  is." 

"And  other  folks  don't  think  any  the  less  of  'em 
for  it.  Well,  I've  laid  my  course  and  I'll  stick 
to  it  till  all's  blue.  Brad,  will  you,  as  a  favor  to 


126  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

me,  chuck  up  your  berth  here  and  ship  'board  the 
Arrow?" 

"Cap'n  Ez,  if  you  want  me  to  quit  this  packet, 
you'll  have  to  heave  me  overboard;  that's  all." 

The  skipper  looked  at  the  clear  eyes  and  the  firm 
jaw  of  the  young  six-footer  opposite. 

"That  goes,  does  it?"  he  asked. 

"That  goes.  Cap'n  Ez,  you've  been  the  best 
friend  I've  ever  had,  except  the  old  maids,  and — 
maybe,  one  more.  I  don't  want  you  to  think  I'm  not 
ambitious,  because  I  am.  I'm  just  as  anxious  to 
make  something  of  myself  as  you  can  be  to  have  me, 
but  I've  made  up  my  mind,  and,  for  the  present,  any- 
way, while  you  sail  a  vessel,  I  sail  with  you — unless 
you  really  order  me  to  quit." 

The  older  man  hesitated.  "Well,"  he  said,  after 
two  or  three  puffs  at  the  cigar,  "I  ought  to  order  it, 
p'raps,  but  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  can.  Brad  Nickerson, 
I  think  as  much  of  you  as  I  would  of  a  son,  and  your 
good  opinion's  wuth — I  don't  b'lieve  you  know  how 
much  it's  wuth  to  me.  But — shake  hands,  will  you?" 

Puzzled  and  troubled,  Bradley  extended  his  hand, 
and  the  Captain  clasped  it  firmly  in  his  own.  For  a 
moment  it  seemed  that  he  was  about  to  say  something 
more,  but  he  did  not.  Giving  the  second  mate's  hand 
a  squeeze,  he  dropped  it,  and  settled  back  in  his  chair, 
smoking  and,  apparently,  thinking  hard.  As  he 
thought,  his  lips  tightened  and  the  scowl  settled  more 
firmly  between  his  brows.  Five  minutes  of  silence, 
and  then  the  skipper  threw  the  half-finished  cigar 
into  a  corner  and  rose  to  his  feet.  His  tone  was 


A  QUESTION  OF  POLICY  1 27 

sharp,  and  there  was  no  trace  of  the  feeling  so  re- 
cently manifested. 

"We  sail  to-morrer  morninV'  he  said,  stepping  to 
the  companion  ladder.  "The  new  first  mate'll  be 
here  to-night.  His  name's  Burke." 

Bradley  did  not  move.  "Just  a  minute,  Cap'n  Ez," 
he  faltered.  "You — you — I  know  it's  none  of  my 

business,  but Well,  you  understand,  I  guess. 

You're  in  trouble — anybody  can  see  that.  Won't  you 
let  me  help  you  out?" 

The  Captain  paused  with  his  foot  on  the  ladder. 
"My  troubles  are  my  own,"  he  answered,  without 
looking  back.  "You  be  thankful  you  ain't  got  any. 
And  here!"  the  tone  was  almost  savage;  "you  take 
my  advice  and  obey  orders  and  don't  ask  questions." 

He  went  on  deck  immediately  and,  after  a  mo- 
ment, Bradley  followed  him.  The  rebuff  was  so  un- 
expected and  so  undeserved,  the  circumstances  con- 
sidered, that  it  hurt  the  young  man  keenly.  His 
pride  was  touched,  and  he  made  up  his  mind  that 
Captain  Titcomb  should  have  no  further  cause  for 
complaint,  so  far  as  interference  by  his  second  officer 
was  concerned.  As  for  the  Captain,  he  kept  to  him- 
self and  said  little  to  anyone  during  the  afternoon. 

The  new  first  mate  came  on  board  that  evening. 
He  was  a  thick-set,  heavy  man,  who  talked  a  great 
deal,  swore  profusely  and  laughed  loudly  at  his  own 
jokes.  He  seemed  to  know  his  business  and,  as  the 
Captain  would  have  said,  "caught  hold"  at  once. 

They  sailed  the  next  morning,  and,  by  the  time  the 
tug  left  them,  Bradley  fancied  that  he  noticed  a  dif- 


1 2  8  PAR  TNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

ference  in  the  state  of  affairs  aboard  the  schooner. 
The  usual  rigid  discipline  seemed  to  be  lacking. 
There  was  no  rebellion  or  sign  of  mutiny,  but  merely 
a  general  shiftlessness  that  Mr.  Burke  did  not  seem 
to  notice.  Strange  to  say,  Captain  Titcomb  did  not 
notice  it,  either,  or,  if  he  did,  said  nothing.  Bradley 
did  not  interfere ;  he  had  not  forgotten  the  advice  to 
"obey  orders  and  ask  no  questions." 

There  was  a  good  wind  and  a  smooth  sea,  and  the 
Captain  drove  the  Thomas  Doane  for  all  she  was 
worth.  By  the  afternoon  of  the  following  day  they 
were  in  Vineyard  Sound.  Bradley's  suspicions  had, 
by  this  time,  come  to  be  almost  certainties.  For  two 
or  three  sailors  to  show  signs  of  drunkenness  on  the 
first  morning  out  of  port  was  nothing  strange,  but  to 
have  those  symptoms  more  pronounced  the  evening 
of  the  second  day  was  proof  that  there  were  bottles  in 
the  fo'castle.  But  Captain  Titcomb,  usually  the  first 
to  scent  the  presence  of  these  abominations  and  to 
punish  their  owners,  now,  apparently,  was  unaware  of 
their  presence.  And  the  first  mate,  too,  either  did 
not  see  or  did  not  care. 

Bradley  was  standing  by  the  fo'castle  just  at  dusk 
that  evening  when  a  sailor  bumped  violently  into  him 
in  passing.  The  second  mate  spoke  sharply  to  the 
offender,  and  the  answer  he  received  was  impudent 
and  surly. 

"Here,  you !"  exclaimed  Bradley,  seizing  the  man 
by  the  shoulder  and  whirling  him  violently  around. 
"Do  you  know  who  you're  talking  to  ?  Speak  to  me 
again  like  that  and  I'll  break  you  in  two." 


A  QUESTION  OF  POLICY  129 

The  man — he  was  a  new  hand — mumbled  a  reply 
to  the  effect  that  he  "hadn't  meant  to  say  nothin'." 

"Well,  don't  say  it  again.  Stand  up.  You're 
drunk.  Now,  where  did  you  get  your  liquor?" 

"Ain't  got  none,  sir." 

"You're  a  liar.  Stand  up,  or  you'll  lie  down  for  a 
good  while.  Anybody  with  a  nose  could  smell  rum 
if  you  passed  a  mile  to  wind'ard.  Where  did  you 
get  it?" 

The  sailor  began  a  further  protestation,  but  Brad- 
ley choked  it  off  and  shook  him  savagely.  The  first 
mate,  hearing  the  scuffle,  came  hurrying  up. 

"What's  the  row,  Mr.  Nickerson?"  he  asked. 

"This  man's  drunk,  and  I  want  to  know  where  the 
rum  came  from." 

Mr.  Burke  scowled  fiercely.  "Look  here!"  he 
shouted,  "is  that  so?  Are  you  drunk?" 

"No,  sir." 

"You're  mighty  close  to  it.  WThy ,"  and  here 

the  first  mate  swore  steadily  for  a  full  minute.  "Do 
you  know  what  I'd  do  to  a  man  that  brought  rum 
aboard  a  vessel  of  mine?  I'd  use  his  blankety- 
blanked  hide  for  a  spare  tops'l  and  feed  the  rest  of 
his  carcass  to  the  dogfish.  Git  out  of  here,  and  re- 
member I'm  watchin'  you  sharp." 

He  gave  the  fellow  a  kick  that  sent  him  flying, 
and,  turning  to  Bradley,  said  in  a  confidential  whis- 
per: "Ain't  it  queer  how  a  shore  drunk'll  stick  to  a 
man?  I've  seen  'em  come  aboard  so  full  that  they 
stayed  so  for  a  week  afterwards." 

"I  think  they've  got  the  liquor  down  for'ard  here." 


130  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

"I  guess  not.  If  I  thought  so  I'd  kill  the  whole" 
— half  dozen  descriptive  adjectives — "lot.  They 
can't  play  with  me,  blank,  blank  'em !" 

But,  in  spite  of  Mr.  Burke's  fierceness,  Bradley 
wasn't  satisfied.  He  believed  that  if  the  first  mate 
had  let  him  alone  he  would  have  found  the  liquor. 
However,  he  thought,  if  neither  the  skipper  nor  Mr. 
Burke  cared  it  was  none  of  his  business.  But  he  was 
uneasy,  nevertheless. 

By  nine  o'clock  the  signs  of  drunkenness  were  so 
plain  that  even  the  first  mate  had  to  admit  the  fact. 
Only  a  very  few  of  the  men  were  strictly  sober.  One 
of  these  was  the  big  Swede,  Swensen.  Oddly  enough, 
this  man  had  stuck  to  Captain  Titcomb's  schooner 
every  voyage  since  the  skipper  had  knocked  the  fight 
out  of  him.  The  novelty  of  a  good  sound  thrashing 
was,  apparently,  just  what  the  giant  had  needed,  and 
for  the  man  who  had  "licked"  him,  he  entertained 
tremendous  respect  and  almost  love. 

"Cap'n  Ez,  he  knock  the  tar  out  of  me,"  said 
Swensen.  "He  stand  no  foolin'.  He's  a  man. 
Hey?" 

He  liked  Bradley,  too,  and  had  presented  the  lat- 
ter with  a  miniature  model  of  a  three-masted  schooner 
in  a  bottle,  beautifully  done,  and  such  "puttering" 
work  that  it  was  a  wonder  how  his  big,  clumsy  fin- 
gers could  have  made  it. 

But  though  Swensen  and  the  Portuguese  cook  and 
one  or  two  more  were  sober,  the  rest  of  the  crew 
were  not.  Mr.  Burke  confessed  as  much  to  Bradley. 

"They've  got  rum  with  'em,  all  right,"  he  whis- 


A  O  UES  riON  OF  POLIC Y  131 

pered.  "But  we'll  be  to  Boston  to-morrer,  and  there 
ain't  no  use  startin'  a  row  till  daylight.  Then  some 
of  these  smart  Alecs'll  find  out  who's  who  in  a  hurry, 
or  my  fist  don't  weigh  what  it  used  to.  Better  not 
say  nothin'  to  the  skipper,"  he  added.  "No  use  to 
worry  him." 

It  was  odd  advice  from  a  mate,  but,  as  Bradley 
could  see,  to  his  astonishment,  there  was  no  need 
of  telling  Captain  Titcomb.  It  wras  plain  enough 
that  the  latter  knew  his  crew's  condition  and  deliber- 
ately ignored  it.  Men  stumbled  past  him  and  he 
looked  the  other  way.  Simple  orders  were  bungled 
and  he  did  not  reprove.  Only  once  that  evening  did 
his  wrath  blaze  out  in  the  old  manner.  A  sailor  was 
ordered  by  him  to  do  something  and,  instead  of  the 
dutiful  "Aye,  aye,  sir,"  he  replied  with  a  muttered 
curse. 

The  next  instant  Captain  Ezra's  fist  was  between 
his  eyes  and  he  fell,  to  be  jerked  to  his  feet  again  and 
back  to  the  rail  with  the  skipper's  hand  twisted  in  his 
shirt  collar. 

"Damn  you!"  said  the  Captain,  between  his  teeth. 
"I'11_I  swear  I'll " 

Mr.  Burke  came  running  and  whispered  eagerly  in 
his  commander's  ear.  Captain  Titcomb's  ^  arm 
straightened  and  the  sailor  was  thrown  across  the 
deck. 

"Go  for'ard!"  roared  the  skipper,  "and  if  you 
want  to  live,  you  keep  out  of  my  sight.  I  can't  help 
it,  Burke ;  I've  got  some  self-respect  left  yit." 

That  was  all,  and  Bradley  wondered. 


132  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

Under  such  circumstances  accidents  were  bound  to 
occur.  But  the  one  that  did  occur  was  serious.  Brad- 
ley was  below  when  it  happened.  He  usually  took  the 
first  watch,  but  to-night  Captain  Titcomb  said  he 
would  take  it,  and  Mr.  Burke  would  stay  up  with  him 
for  awhile.  So  the  second  mate  uturned  in."  He  was 
awakened  by  a  racket  on  deck,  and  the  sound  of  voices 
and  footsteps  on  the  companion  ladder.  Opening  his 
stateroom  door  he  saw  four  men  descending  the  lad- 
der carrying  a  fifth  in  their  arms. 

"What's  the  matter?"  asked  Bradley.  "Who's 
hurt?" 

"It's  the  skipper,"  replied  one  of  the  men,  in  a 
frightened  voice.  "He  fell  and  hurt  his  head. 
He 

Bradley  sprang  into  the  cabin  and  saw  Captain 
Titcomb,  unconscious,  and  with  the  blood  running 
from  an  ugly  cut  on  his  forehead. 

"For  God's  sake "  he  began,  but  was  inter- 
rupted by  Burke,  who,  with  a  very  white  face,  was 
descending  the  ladder. 

"Hush  up!"  commanded  the  first  mate.  "Don't 
make  a  row.  'Tain't  nothin'  serious,  I  guess.  Jest 
cussed  foolishness.  Put  him  on  the  locker  there, 
you." 

This  is  what  had  happened:  The  schooner  was 
passing  out  of  the  Sound  and,  as  the  night  was  black 
and  hazy,  they  were  using  the  lead  frequently.  The 
Thomas  Doane  had  a  high  after-deck  and  to  reach 
the  waist  one  must  descend  a  five-foot  ladder.  A 
sailor,  not  too  sober,  had  thrown  the  lead  and,  in 


A  QUESTION  OF  POLICY  133 

passing  aft  with  the  line,  had  fouled  it  at  the  ladder. 
Captain  Titcomb,  losing  his  temper  at  the  man's 
clumsiness,  had  run  toward  him,  tripped  in  the  line 
and  pitched  head-first  over  the  fellow's  shoulder  to 
the  main  deck.  The  sailor's  body  had  broken  the 
fall,  somewhat,  and  the  skull  was  not  fractured,  but 
it  was  bad  enough. 

They  bathed  and  bandaged  the  bleeding  forehead, 
hurriedly  pulled  off  the  Captain's  clothes  and  got  him 
into  his  berth.  He  came  to  himself  a  little  as  they  did 
so,  but  was  too  weak  to  talk  and  did  not  seem  to 
realize  what  was  going  on.  Mr.  Burke  was  the  most 
agitated  man  aboard.  He  swore  steadily,  and  cursed 
the  foremast  hand  who  was  responsible,  beginning 
with  his  remote  ancestors  and  ending  with  any  grand- 
children that  he  might  have  later  on. 

"This  is  a  devil  of  a  mess!"  he  growled.  "Just 
now,  too.  I'd  have  rather  broke  my  own  neck  twice 
over.  Nickerson,  you'll  have  to  stay  below  here  and 
look  after  him.  I've  got  to  be  on  deck." 

The  cook,  who  had  helped  bring  the  Captain  into 
the  cabin,  lingered  after  the  first  mate  had  gone. 
Bradley  questioned  him  about  the  accident. 

"Thoma,  he  done  it,"  said  the  cook.  "The  line, 
she  git  mess  up  by  the " 

"He  was  drunk,"  broke  in  Bradley.  "He's  been 
drunk  all  the  afternoon.  Isn't  that  so" 

The  cook  looked  hastily  at  the  ladder,  then  at  the 
Captain.  Then,  nodding  emphatically,  he  whispered: 
"Ya-as,  sir.  They  most  all  drunk.  I  never  seen  so 
much  drink  on  schooner;  not  on  Cap'n  Titcomb's 


i34  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

schooner,    anyway,    and   I    sail   with    him    for    five 
year." 

Together  they  watched  the  Captain  as  the  hours 
passed.  He  spoke  now  and  then  and  seemed  better, 
but,  for  the  most  part,  he  slept.  Bradley  changed 
the  bandages  on  his  forehead,  and  gave  him  stimu- 
lants when  he  woke.  Mr.  Burke  came  below  every 
little  while  to  make  inquiries.  He  was  very  nervous. 

"He's  all  right,"  he  said,  as  he  was  leaving  for  the 
third  time.  "It  knocked  him  silly,  but  his  skull's 
whole,  near's  I  can  find  out,  and  he'll  be  feelin'  good 
in  a  day  or  two.  You  turn  in,  Mr.  Nickerson.  The 
doctor  here'll  look  out  for  the  skipper." 

But  Bradley  would  not  go  to  bed.  He  was  wor- 
ried about  the  Captain,  and  even  more  worried  about 
the  schooner.  He  did  not  like  Mr.  Burke,  and  he 
was  by  no  means  sure — judging  by  what  he  had  seen 
— that  the  mate  knew  how  to  handle  a  crew.  About 
two  o'clock  he  decided  to  go  on  deck. 

It  was  a  black  night,  with  clouds  covering  the  sky 
and  a  haze  low  down  on  the  horizon.  It  was  not 
thick  enough  for  the  fog-horns  to  be  sounding,  but 
the  shore  was  invisible.  There  was  almost  a  fair 
wind,  and  the  schooner,  heeled  well  over,  was  push- 
ing through  the  quiet  sea  in  good  shape. 

Bradley  leaned  on  the  rail  and  looked  over  the* 
water  toward  where  the  shore  should  be.  As  he 
stood  there  the  haze  blew  aside  for  a  moment  and 
he  saw,  not  more  than  two  miles  away  and  ahead  of 
the  schooner,  the  twinkle  of  a  light.  Then  it  disap- 
peared again.  He  walked  aft.  One  of  the  new 


A  QUESTION  OF  POLICY  135 

hands  was  at  the  wheel,  and  there  was  a  distinct  smell 
of  rum  in  that  vicinity. 

"Where's  the  mate?"  asked  Bradley. 

"For'ard,  sir." 

"Who  gave  you  that  course?" 

"Mr.  Burke,  sir." 

Burke  was  standing  by  the  foreshrouds,  looking 
over  the  side.  He  started  when  Bradley  touched  his 
arm. 

"Excuse  me,  Mr.  Burke,"  said  the  second  mate. 
"Where  are  we?" 

"Turned  the  Rip  an  hour  or  so  ago."  Burke's 
tone  was  distinctly  unpleasant.  "What  are  you  doin' 
here  ?  Thought  I  told  you  to  stay  with  the  skipper 


or  turn  in." 


"I  couldn't  sleep,  so  I  came  on  deck  a  minute. 
Isn't  she  pretty  close  in  ?  I  thought  I  saw  the  Skakit 
Light  just  now." 

"Saw  nothin' !  Skakit  Light's  away  off  yonder. 
Water  enough  here  to  float  a  Cunarder.  What's  the 
matter  with  you?  'Fraid  I  ain't  on  to  my  job? 
When  I  want  your  help  I'll  ask  you  for  it;  I've  sailed 
these  waters  when  you  was  a  kid." 

"Well,  I  didn't  mean  to " 

"Then  shut  up !  You  go  below  and  'tend  to  the 
skipper." 

Bradley  bit  his  lip  and  turned  away.  If  Burke 
was  right  he  had  no  business  to  interfere.  If  he 
wasn't  right  the  Thomas  Doane  wras  shaving  the 
shoals  altogether  too  close.  He  went  below,  found 
Captain  Titcomb  sleeping  quietly  and,  a  little  later 


136  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

came  on  deck  again  to  lean  on  the  rail  amidships, 
and,  once  more,  stare  at  the  foggy  darkness. 

A  big  figure  loomed  close  beside  him.  It  was 
Swensen,  and  he  obviously  wanted  to  speak. 

"Well,  Swensen,"  said  Bradley,  uwhat  is  it?" 

The  Swede  leaned  forward  and,  shading  his  mouth 
with  his  hand,  whispered,  hoarsely:  uMr.  Neeker- 
son,  you  know  'bout  the  fust  mate?  He  all  right? 
What?" 

Bradley  had  been  brought  up  to  discourage  famil- 
iarity with  men  before  the  mast. 

"What  are  you  talking  about?"  he  asked, 
sharply. 

"Nawthin',  sir.  Only,  he  know  this  course?  Ah 
see  Skakit  Light  twice  yust  now,  and  only  a  mile'n 
'half  off.  That  not  'nough — not  here." 

"Are  you  sure  you  saw  it?" 

"Yas,  sir." 

Bradley  turned  away.  He  hated  to  risk  another 
snub  from  the  mate,  and  he  fully  realized  the  danger 
of  interfering  with  a  superior  officer,  but  Captain 
Titcomb  was  not  in  command,  and  here  was  Swen- 
sen's  testimony  to  back  his  own  that  the  schooner  was 
running  too  close  to  the  dangerous  Cape  Cod  beaches. 
The  course  she  was  on  was  taking  her  still  closer  in 
and  the  fog  was  growing  thicker. 

This  time  Burke  was  standing  by  the  man  at  the 
wheel.  He  swore  when  the  second  mate  approached, 
and  snarled:  "Well,  what's  the  matter  now?" 

"Mr.  Burke,  are  you  sure  that  wasn't  the  Skakit 
Light  I  saw?  Swensen  says  he's  seen  it  twice,  and 


A  QUESTION  OF  POLICY  137 

not  more  than  a  mile  and  a  half  away.  If  that's  so, 
we're  running  into  shoal  water.  Hadn't  I  better  try 
soundings?" 

In  a  blast  of  profanity,  Burke  consigned  both  Brad- 
ley and  Swensen  to  the  lowest  level  in  the  brimstone 
future. 

"Go  below!"  he  yelled.  "Go  below  and  stay  be- 
low, or  I'll  find  out  why."  Then,  as  if  he  realized 
that  he  was  showing  too  much  temper,  he  added,  in  a 
milder  tone:  "It's  all  right,  Nickerson.  We're 
three  mile  off  shore,  and  Skakit's  astern  of  us.  Go 
below ;  ain't  the  skipper  enough  to  make  me  nervous 
without  you  shovin'  your  oar  in?" 

And  then  from  somewhere  forward  came  a  fright- 
ened yell,  and  the  sound  of  some  one  running.  Swen- 
sen came  bounding  up  the  ladder  from  the  main  deck. 

"Breakers  ahead !"  he  shouted.  "Breakers  ahead ! 
Put  her  over!  Keep  her  off,  quick!" 

Burke's  face  went  white  and  then  crimson. 

"Breakers  be  hanged!"  he  cried.  "Keep  her  as 
she  is!" 

But  the  Swede  was  dancing  up  and  down.  There 
were  confused  cries  forward,  and  other  men  came 
running. 

"Starboard  your  helm !"  bellowed  Swensen.  "Put 
her  over!  You  can  hear  'em!  Listen!" 

He  held  up  both  hands  to  enforce  silence,  and  for 
a  moment  every  soul  on  deck  stood  listening.  The 
waves  clucked  along  the  schooner's  side,  the  wind 
sang  in  the  rigging,  the  masts  creaked.  And  then 
another  sound  grew,  as  it  were,  into  Bradley's  ears.. 


i38  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

A  low,  steady  murmur,  now  rising,  now  sinking.  He 
sprang  toward  the  wheel. 

"Put  her  over!"  he  shouted.  "There  are  break- 
ers. Starboard  your  helm!  Starboard!" 

"Keep  her  as  she  is!"  bellowed  Burke,  bending 
forward  with  his  fists  clenched.  "Don't  turn  a 
spoke !" 

"But,  for  heaven's  sake,  Mr.  Burke!  Are  you 
crazy?  We'll  be  ashore  in  ten  minutes!" 

The  first  mate's  eyes  shone  in  the  dim  light.  His 
teeth  showed  white  between  his  opened  lips. 

"By  the  livin'  God  A'mighty!"  he  gasped,  chok- 
ingly, "I'll  show  you  who's  runnin'  this  craft.  Keep 
her  as  she  is!" 

Bradley  forgot  his  duty  as  second  officer,  forgot 
that  half  the  crew  were  watching  him,  forgot  every- 
thing except  that  his  best  friend  lay  helpless  in  a 
berth  below,  while  his  schooner  was  being  run  into 
certain  destruction.  He  leaped  to  the  wheel  and  the 
mate  leaped  to  meet  him. 

Bradley  stooped  as  he  sprang  forward,  and  it  was 
lucky  for  him  that  he  did  so.  Burke's  fist  whizzed 
past  his  ear,  and  the  next  moment  the  two  mates  were 
clinched  and  struggling  in  the  little  space  between 
the  deck-house  and  the  after-rail.  Bradley  did  not 
attempt  to  strike;  his  sole  idea  was  to  get  to  the 
wheel.  Therefore,  he  merely  warded  off  the  furious 
blows  aimed  at  his  head  and  struggled  silently.  But 
the  one-sided  fight  could  not  last  long.  Burke  grad- 
ually backed  his  opponent  to  the  rail,  and  then,  with- 
out turning  his  head,  he  shouted: 


A  QUESTION  OF  POLICY  139 

"Thoma,  pass  me  a  handspike.    Lively,  you " 

The  man  Thoma — he  was  half  drunk  and  natur- 
ally stupid — obediently  placed  the  handspike  in  the 
first  mate's  hand. 

"Now  then!"  panted  Burke,  "by " 

And  then  Bradley  struck — a  half-arm  upper  cut — 
right  under  the  ugly,  protruding  chin.  Burke's  teeth 
clicked  together;  he  seemed  to  rise  from  the  deck  and 
fell  backward,  at  full  length,  almost  under  the  feet 
of  Swensen.  Bradley  shoved  the  sailor  from  the 
wheel  and  gave  the  latter  a  whirl.  The  schooner 
shivered,  turned  slowly,  the  booms  swept  across  her 
deck,  and  she  heeled  over  on  the  other  tack,  with  her 
nose  pointing  well  away  from  the  beach  and  toward 
the  open  sea. 

Burke  lay  still  for  an  instant,  spread-eagled  on 
the  deck;  then  he  rose  to  his  feet.  Bradley  stooped 
and  picked  up  the  handspike.  The  first  mate  glared 
at  the  man  who  had  knocked  him  down.  Also  he 
looked  respectfully  at  the  handspike.  But  if  he  had 
been  angry  before  he  was  crazy  now. 

"You  mutineer !"  he  shouted,  with  an  oath  between 
every  word;  "just  wait  a  minute!  I'll  show  you 
how  I  treat  mutineers.'* 

He  ran  to  the  cabin  companion  and  jumped  down. 
Bradley,  trying  to  appear  calm  before  the  crew, 
glanced  at  the  sails  and  then  out  over  the  side.  Sud- 
denly, so  close  that  their  ear-drums  throbbed  with  it, 
there  boomed  out  of  the  dark  a  thuttering,  shaking 
roar,  that  swelled  to  a  shriek  and  died  away — the 
voice  of  the  great  steam  foghorn  of  the  Skakit  Light. 


140  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

"Lawd  Gawd !"  muttered  Swensen.  uVe  vos  that 
near!" 

Burke  came  bounding  up  the  companion  ladder. 
Something  bright  and  shiny  gleamed  in  his  hand. 

"Now  then!"  he  cried,  "we'll  see  what " 

But  two  mammoth  paws  clasped  his  wrists,  the 
hand  with  the  revolver  was  turned  backward  till  the 
barrel  pointed  at  the  end  of  the  gaff,  and  big  Swen- 
sen's  voice  said,  calmly : 

"Yah,  I  guess  not.  Yust  vait  a  minute,  Mr. 
Burke.  Mr.  Neekerson,  vat  I  do  vit  him,  hey?" 

It  was  mutiny,  of  course,  mutiny  pure  and  simple, 
but  Bradley  had  gone  too  far  to  back  out  now. 

"Take  him  below  and  lock  him  in  his  stateroom," 
he  said.  "Tell  the  doctor  to  see  that  he  doesn't 
break  out.  Then  come  back  to  me.  Yes,  you  may 
give  me  the  revolver." 

Swensen  twisted  the  pistol  from  the  first  mate's 
hand  and  then,  picking  him  up  as  he  would  a  ten-year- 
old  boy,  started  for  the  cabin.  Burke  struggled 
furiously  and  swore  like  a  wild  man,  but  he  couldn't 
break  away.  The  shouts  grew  fainter  and  then  were 
muffled  almost  entirely  by  the  closing  of  the  state- 
room door. 

Bradley  put  the  revolver  in  his  pocket. 

"Now,  then,  men,"  he  said;  "I'm  skipper  of  this 
schooner  for  the  rest  of  this  voyage.  Is  there  any- 
body here  that  doesn't  understand  it?  No?  All 
right.  O'Leary,  go  for'ard  on  lookout.  Peterson, 
heave  the  lead.  Swensen,"  as  the  big  Swede  came  up 
the  ladder,  "take  the  wheel  and  keep  her  as  she  is." 


A  QUESTION  OF  POLICY  141 

All  that  morning,  until  daybreak  sent  the  fog  roll- 
ing to  the  north  in  tumbled  clouds,  the  lead  was  go- 
ing, and  the  crew  were  busy  on  the  Thomas  Doane. 
Bradley  stood  close  at  Swensen's  elbow  and  edged  her 
out,  feeling  his  way  with  the  lead,  and  listening  to  the 
calls  of  the  foghorns.  The  schooner's  own  foot- 
power  horn  was  kept  tooting,  and,  by  and  by,  as  they 
got  out  into  the  ship  channel,  it  was  answered  by 
other  horns  and  bells,  some  close  aboard,  some 
distant. 

But  by  breakfast  time  it  was  clear  and  fine  and, 
before  a  cracking  wind,  the  schooner  walked  along  as 
if  she  realized  her  escape  and  was  trying  to  show  her 
gratitude.  Through  that  day  Bradley  stood  by  the 
wheel,  only  leaving  to  eat  a  mouthful  and  to  inquire 
after  Captain  Titcomb,  who  was  much  improved  and 
beginning  to  ask  questions.  And  just  at  dusk  the  gilt 
dome  of  the  Boston  State  House  shone  dimly  in  the 
dying  light,  and  the  Thomas  Doane,  resting  from  her 
labors,  moved  easily  behind  the  tug  up  to  her  dock. 
She  had  made  splendid  time,  but  Bradley  was  far 
from  happy.  There  was  trouble  coming,  and  he 
knew  it. 

He  sent  word  to  the  cook,  ordering  the  latter  to 
unlock  the  stateroom  door  and  release  the  imprisoned 
first  mate.  A  minute  later  the  cook  came  on  deck,  his 
eyes  shining  with  excitement. 

"Mr.  Burke,  he  go  right  into  the  skipper's  room 
and  shut  the  door,"  whispered  the  Portuguese.  "And 
now  they  talk,  talk,  talk.  And  Mr.  Burke  he  swear 
all  the  time.1' 


142  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

When  the  first  mate  appeared  he  did  not  speak  to 
any  one,  but  jumped  to  the  wharf  and  hurried  away. 
A  doctor  was  sent  for  and  Captain  Titcomb's  wound 
was  dressed.  The  physician  said  the  injury  was 
not  serious.  There  was  no  concussion  of  the  brain, 
and  the  patient  would  be  all  right  in  a  couple  of 
days. 

Bradley  didn't  sleep  much  that  night.  Next  morn- 
ing the  Captain  sent  for  him.  When  the  second  mate 
entered  the  stateroom  he  found  the  skipper  sitting  on 
the  edge  of  the  berth  with  a  big  bandage  on  his  head, 
but  looking  very  bright  and  like  himself. 

He  seemed  oddly  embarrassed  when  Bradley  came 
in.  For  a  moment  or  two  he  did  not  speak.  The 
second  mate,  who  had  expected  a  scorching  rebuke 
and  was  prepared  to  meet  it,  was  surprised  at  the 
mildness  of  .his  first  remark. 

"Now  then,  Brad,"  said  Captain  Titcomb,  uset 
down.  What's  this  about  you  and  the  mate?  Tell 
the  whole  yarn,  first  and  last." 

So  Bradley  told  it,  just  as  it  happened— the  crew's 
behavior,  his  suspicions,  the  sighting  of  the  Light  and 
what  followed. 

"Humph  !"  Captain  Ezra  nodded.  "Yup,  that's 
about  what  Burke  said.  Now,  Brad,  I  s'pose  you 
knew  that  Mr.  Burke  was  your  superior  officer,  and 
that  what  he  said  was  law  for  you,  didn't  you  ?" 

"Yes,  sir;  but " 

"Never  mind  the  'buts'  now.  Taking  command 
by  force  is  serious — mighty  serious." 

"I  did  what  I  thought  was  right,  Cap'n  Ez — what 


A  QUESTION  OF  POLICY  143 

I  believed  you'd  think  was  right.  The  schooner  would 
have  been  aground  in  ten  minutes  if  I  hadn't." 

"Well,  s'pose  she  would.  There'd  have  been  no 
lives  lost.  Plenty  of  boats  and  a  smooth  sea." 

"But  Mr.  Burke  knew  she  was  headed  for  the 
shoals.  He  must  have  known  it.  The  owners 
would  have " 

"What  do  you  know  about  the  owners  and  their 
affairs?" 

"But  the  schooner?" 

"She's  a  hulk,  that's  all — and  insured." 

The  reply  was  an  odd  one,  but  the  tone  in  which 
it  was  made  was  odder  still.  Strange  things  had 
happened  during  the  past  week;  Captain  Titcomb's 
silent  ill-humor,  the  interview  the  day  before  leaving 
New  York,  the  sudden  change  of  mates,  the  skipper's 
studied  indifference  to  the  demoralization  among  the 
crew,  Burke's  frantic  determination  to  keep  on  the 
course  set  by  him  even  after  the  proximity  to  the 
shoals  had  been  proven  beyond  a  doubt — all  these 
were  fingers  pointing  in  one  direction.  Bradley,  how- 
ever, had  not  looked  in  that  direction.  But  now  the 
last  wisp  of  fog  blew  away  and  he  saw  clearly. 

"Cap'n  Ez !"  he  gasped.  "Cap'n  Ez !  Were  you 
going  to  wreck  her  on  purpose?" 

The  Captain  shifted  in  his  seat,  but  did  not  look  at 
his  companion. 

"Orders  are  orders,"  he  said.  "Mr.  Burke  was 
your  skipper — with  me  out  of  the  way — and  you 
ought  to  have  minded  him,  just  as  I  should  my 
owners." 


H4  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

"Wreck  a  vessel  for  her  insurance !"  groaned  Brad- 
ley. "I  didn't  think  you'd  do  it,  Cap'n  Ez.  I  didn't 
think  you'd  do  it!" 

The  dismay,  the  grieved  disappointment  and  hor- 
ror in  his  friend's  tone,  seemed  to  hurt  Captain  Tit- 
comb  sorely.  He  glanced  at  Bradley,  and  then 
looked  away  again. 

"I've  heard  all  sorts  of  yarns  about  you  in  Or- 
ham,"  went  on  Bradley.  "They  say  you're  too  smart 
and  that  you'll  bear  watching  and  all  that.  I've 
called  those  that  said  it  liars,  and  I've  stood  by  you 

through  thick  and  thin.  But  now What  do  you 

think  they'd  say  if  they  knew  of  this?  What  do  you 
think  Miss  Prissy  and  Miss  Tempy  would  say? 
Why,  they  b'lieve  you're  the  best " 

The  Captain  broke  in  testily.  "Never  mind  all 
that,"  he  said.  "As  for  Squealer  Wixon  and  Jabe 
Bailey's  talk,  I  don't  care  a  snap.  And  the  old  maids 
ain't  exactly  up  to  date  in  this  world's  way  of  lookin' 
at  things.  S'pose  the  old  Doane  was  booked  for 
thunderation  by  the  shoal  route — what  of  it?  Mind, 
I  only  say  s'pose.  Better  to  go  that  way  on  a  smooth 
night,  with  all  hands  saved,  than  to  bust  up  in  a  squall 
and  drown  us  all,  as  was  likely  to  happen  any  minute. 
Nobody  loses  but  the  insurance  folks,  and  they'd  lose 
quick  enough,  anyhow.  Why,  it's  done  a  hundred 
times  a  year  all  along  this  coast.  'Member  when  the 
Bay  Queen  piled  up  on  the  beach  off  Setuckit  last 
summer?  Everybody  was  as  sartin  as  could  be  that 
'twas  done  a-purpose,  but  you  couldn't  prove  nothin'. 
So  with  the  Rhoda  Norton  and  the  Banner,  and  any 


A  QUESTION  OF  POLICY  145 

quantity  more.  S'pose — mind,  I'm  only  s'posin' — 
that  you'd  got  orders  from  your  owners — orders,  you 
understand — to  do  somethin'  you  didn't  like  ?  S'pose 
you'd  always  stuck  to  owners'  orders  a  good  deal 
closer 'n  you  had  to  the  Bible  ?  You  talk  a  lot — so  do 
other  folks — but  what  would  you  have  done  ?" 

"I'd  have  been  honest,  and  said  'No.'  " 

"Humph!  Well,  I  guess  you  would.  You're  the 
nearest  thing  to  an  honest  man  that  I've  run  across 
yit.  Honesty  is  the  best  policy,  they  say.  But  was  it 
honesty  that  made  ha'f  the  millionaires?  Are  Will- 
iams Brothers  rich  because  they've  always  been  hon- 
est? Josh  Bangs  is  in  the  poorhouse,  and  he's  the 
most  honest  critter  in  Orham,  while  his  brother  Sol  is 
chairman  of  school  committee,  deacon  in  the  church, 
has  money  in  the  bank,  and  would  skin  the  eye-teeth 
out  of  a  Down-East  horse  jockey.  Why " 

"Cap'n  Ez,"  interrupted  Bradley,  "stop  talkin' 
that  way.  You  don't  believe  a  word  of  it.  I  know 
you  too  well.  The  trouble  with  you  is  that  everlast- 
ing 'owners'  orders.'  I  almost  think  that  that  acci- 
dent last  night  was,  as  Miss  Tempy  would  say,  'sent' 
to  keep  you  from  doing  something  you'd  be  sorry  for 
all  the  rest  of  your  days." 

The  Captain  looked  at  the  speaker  oddly.  "Then 
you  cal'late,"  he  said,  "that  I  ought  to  thank  God 
A'mighty  and  a  tipsy  fo-mast  hand  for  savin'  what 
the  book  folks  would  call  my  honor  ?  That's  all  right ; 
only  wait  till  Williams  Brothers  send  me  their  thanks 
on  a  clean  plate,  with  gilt  doodads  'round  the  edges. 
Williams  Brothers  and  your  particular  friend,  Mr. 


i46  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

Burke,  ain't  been  heard  from  yet,  my  son.  Well, 
Brad,  I  s'pose  you'll  be  packin'  up  to-night,  anyway. 
An  honest  man,  'cordin'  to  your  log,  ain't  needed  on 
the  Thomas  Doane.  I  told  you  you  ought  to  ship 
'board  the  Arrow" 

"I  didn't  ship  on  the  Arrow  because  I'd  rather  be 
with  you  than  anybody  else  on  the  earth.  I  wouldn't 
sail  with  a  rascal  that  would  wreck  a  schooner,  and  I 
don't  believe — I  know  you're  not  really  a  rascal.  Oh, 
can't  you  see?  It  isn't  myself  I'm  thinking  about — 
it's  you — you!" 

The  Captain  took  his  knife  from  his  packet  and 
whittled  a  corner  off  the  cabin  table  before  replying. 
Then  he  said,  slowly : 

"Much  obliged,  Brad.  But  what  do  you  s'pose 
Williams  Brothers  will  want  me  to  do  when  they  give 
me  orders  for  this  liner's  next  trip?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"S'pose  those  orders  are  the  same  as  the  last ;  what 
then?" 

"Then  say  'No,'  like  an  honest  man." 

Captain  Ezra  gave  a  short  laugh.  "Honesty,  my 
son,  is  like  di'monds,  sometimes — it's  pretty,  but  it 
comes  high.  You  turn  in.  I'm  goin'  to  set  up  a  while 
and  smoke." 

Bradley  reluctantly  went  to  bed,  but  when  he 
awoke,  several  hours  later,  he  heard  the  Captain  stir- 
ring in  his  stateroom. 

Next  morning  the  skipper  received  a  telegram. 

"Williams  Brothers,  havin'  heard  from  friend 
Burke,  want  to  have  a  little  chat  with  the  commander 


A  QUESTION  OF  POLICY  147 

of  the  clipper  Thomas  Doane"  he  remarked  to  Brad- 
ley. "That  doctor  squilgeein'  my  maintop  with  his 
physic  stuff  has  made  me  feel  Al  again.  I'm  goin'  to 
New  York  to-night  on  the  Fall  River  Line." 

And  he  went,  leaving  Mr.  Burke  in  command  of 
the  schooner,  a  state  of  affairs  not  too  delightful  to 
Bradley.  But  the  Captain's  stay  was  a  short  one.  He 
was  back  on  board  early  the  second  morning,  and 
called  the  second  mate  into  the  cabin. 

"Well,  Brad,"  he  said,  "I  got  my  orders." 

"Yes,  sir,"  anxiously.    "What  were  they?" 

"  'Bout  the  same  as  the  last." 

"And — and — what  did  you  say?" 

Captain  Titcomb  leaned  over  and  deliberately 
knocked  his  cigar  ash  into  the  centre  of  a  carpet 
flower.  Then  he  looked  up  quickly  and  answered, 
with  a  quizzical  smile : 

"If  you  want  to  know,  I  told  Williams  Brothers  to 
go  to  hell,  and,  honesty  bein'  the  best  policy,  you  and 
me's  out  of  a  job  I" 


CHAPTER    VIII 

HOME  AGAIN. 

BRAD,"  asked  Captain  Titcomb,  creasing 
the  morning  paper  into  folds  and  tossing 
it  on  the  bed,  uwhat  are  you  plannin'  to 
do,  now  that  our  late  lamented  owners  have  com- 
mitted financial  suicide  by  cuttin'  you  off  in  the  flower 
of  your  youth,  so  to  speak?" 

It  was  late  the  morning  of  the  third  day  after  the 
Captain's  return  from  his  flying  visit  to  New  York. 
They  had  said  good-bye  to  the  Thomas  Doane  the 
previous  forenoon,  and  were  now  occupying  a  room 
in  the  United  States  Hotel.  Bradley  had  rather  ex- 

148 


HOME  AGAIN  149 

pected  to  leave  at  once  for  Orham,  but  the  Captain 
asked  him  to  wait  a  little  while.  "If  we  go  home 
now,"  he  said,  "we'll  have  to  answer  four  million 
questions,  and  my  head's  a  little  leaky  yet  from  tryin' 
to  stave  in  the  deck  with  it.  I  don't  believe  I  could 
answer  more'n  three  million  and  a  ha'f  without  strain- 
in'  my  intellect.  I  can  sympathize  with  Bluey  Batch- 
eldor.  Bluey  works  like  blazes  most  of  the  time, 
keepin'  a  chair  from  slippin'  its  moorin's,  and  'bout 
once  a  year  he  has  to  come  up  to  Boston  on  a  vaca- 
tion. What  I  need  is  a  vacation.  We'll  hang  'round 
here  for  a  spell,  if  you  don't  care.  Besides,  I  want 
to  think." 

He  had  barely  alluded  to  the  momentous  happen- 
ings of  the  recent  voyage,  nor  had  he  given  any  de- 
tails of  the  circumstances  leading  up  to  them.  Brad- 
ley, for  his  part,  had  asked  no  questions.  It  was  suf- 
ficient for  him  to  know  that  his  best  friend  had  been 
saved  from  committing  what,  in  his  eyes,  was  a  crime. 

"Well,"  repeated  Captain  Titcomb,  "what  are  you 
plannin'  to  do?" 

Bradley,  who  was  sitting  by  the  window,  looking 
down  upon  the  hats  of  the  people  in  the  narrow  street, 
answered,  slowly:  "I  don't  know.  I've  been  waiting 
to  find  out  what  you  intended  doing." 

The  Captain  crossed  his  legs  and  tilted  back  in  his 
chair. 

"I  cal'late,"  he  observed,  "that  I  could  walk  out  of 
this  gilded  palace  of  luxury  and  run  afoul  of  another 
skipper's  berth  inside  of  an  hour.  Not  at  my  old 
wages,  of  course,  but  a  pretty  fair  berth,  all  the  same. 


150  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

You  see,  they  know  me  pretty  well  alongshore.  And 
I  wouldn't  wonder  if  I  could  hook  a  second  mate's 
place  for  you,  at  the  same  time.  I  don't  know, 
though,"  he  added,  slyly,  uas  you'd  feel  safe,  bein'  an 
honest  man  and  'whiter  than  snow,'  as  the  hymn-book 
says,  to  sail  along  with  me  again.  Hey?" 

Bradley  laughed.  "I'd  be  willing  to  risk  it,  if  you 
think  you  can  stand  your  end,"  he  said. 

"Well,  I  ain't  jest  sure  whether  the  parson  is  the 
best  supercargo  for  a  coastin'  packet,  or  not  He's  a 
sort  of  spare  hawser  in  case  your  morals  part,  but  the 
business  end  of  the  deal  is  a  question.  However,  I 
don't  believe  we'll  stop  to  fight  that  out  jest  now. 
Fact  is,  Brad,  I've  had  a  kink  in  my  mainsheet  for  a 
consider'ble  spell.  I've  been  gittin  sicker  and  sicker 
of  jumpin'  when  somebody  else  piped  'All  hands.1 
I've  had  a  notion  that  some  day  I  was  goin'  to  cut 
loose,  and  cruise  on  my  own  hook.  You  know  I've 
hinted  at  it  for  over  a  year.  Now,  it  looks  as  if  this 
was  my  chance,  or  never.  Brad,  how'd  you  like  to  be 
a  wrecker?" 

"A  wrecker?"  Bradley's  face  showed  his  absolute 
astonishment. 

"Oh,  I  don't  mean  the  line  of  wreckin1  that  is  mak- 
in'  your  eyes  stick  out  at  this  minute.  Thanks  to  my 
second  mate,  I  seem  to  have  graduated  from  that,  as 
you  might  say.  Maybe  I  did  right — maybe  I  didn't. 
At  present  I  don't  know  whether  to  bless  you  or  to 
kick  you.  That's  another  thing  to  be  decided  on  by 
and  by.  But  I  mean  a  different  kind  of  wreckin'.  Do 
you,know  Caleb  Burgess,  Cap't  Jerry's  cousin?" 


HOME  AGAIN  151 

Yes;  Bradley  knew  him.  He  owned  a  little 
schooner  that  flitted  along  the  Cape  Cod  coast,  pick- 
ing up  floating  wreckage,  when  it  was  of  value,  drag- 
ging for  anchors,  dredging  for  chains  and  iron-work 
lost  by  vessels  in  trouble,  and  doing  a  sort  of  nautical 
old  junk  business. 

"Well,"  went  on  the  Captain,  "Caleb's  gittin'  old, 
and  he'd  like  to  sell  out.  Most  folks  think  he's 
scratched  a  bare  livin'  from  the  shoals,  but  I  happen 
to  know  that  he's  done  a  good  deal  better  than  that. 
The  old  man  told  me  how  much  he  had  in  the  bank, 
and  it  wan't  to  be  sneezed  at.  Now,  I  could  buy  that 
schooner  of  his  cheap.  She  isn't  much,  and  money 
would  have  to  be  spent  on  her,  but  she'd  do  for  a 
start.  You  understand,  the  wreckin'  business  I'd 
do  wouldn't  be  anchor-draggin'  alone.  There's 
money  in  a  first-class  wreckin'-plant  on  Cape  Cod. 
Wrecks!  Why,  they  pile  up  there  three  deep 
every  winter.  Now,  listen  a  minute,  while  I  rise 
to  blow." 

Bradley  listened,  and  the  Captain  talked.  He  had 
evidently  given  much  thought  to  this  proposition,  and 
his  plans  were  ambitious.  He  believed  that  if  a 
capable  man  bought  the  Lizzie — that  was  the  name 
of  the  Burgess  schooner — added  to  her  equipment, 
and  sailed  her  himself,  he  could  build  up  a  profitable 
business.  The  salvage  of  cargoes  of  stranded  schoon- 
ers, and  of  the  schooners  themselves,  played  a  large 
part  in  his  plans.  One  or  two  good-sized  jobs  of  this 
kind,  taken  on  a  commission  basis,  would  bring  in 
capital  enough  to  warrant  the  purchase  of  a  bigger 


152  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

vessel,  fitted  with  auxiliary  power,  with  a  diving 
equipment,  derricks,  and  the  like. 

"Then,"  said  the  Captain,  rising  and  pacing  up  and 
down  the  room,  ua  man  could  begin  to  shuck  his  coat, 
and  sail  in.  He  could  git  some  of  the  jobs  the  big  city 
wreckin'  companies  git,  and  there's  money  in  them — 
big  money.  And  that  would  be  only  the  beginnin'. 
I'm  dreamin',  maybe,  but  why  not,  some  day,  a  fleet 
of  wreckin'  vessels,  maybe  a  tug  or  two?  And  then 
for  raisin'  sunk  schooners — and  all  the  rest  of  it." 

"But  wouldn't  that  take  capital?" 

"Sartin  sure.  But  let  me — us — prove  that  the 
profit's  there,  and  the  capital'll  be  donated,  like 
frozen  potaters  at  a  minister's  surprise  party.  Oh, 
I've  thought  it  out !  Now,  here !" 

And  again  he  proceeded  to  go  over  the  ground,  giv- 
ing figures  this  time,  showing  for  just  how  much,  in 
his  opinion,  the  Lizzie  could  be  bought,  and  how 
much  it  would  cost  to  fit  her  up  for  the  preliminary 
work.  He  said  that  he  believed  himself  capable  of 
carrying  on  the  business,  as  he  had  spent  two  years  in 
wrecking  when  he  was  Bradley's  age,  and  so  on. 

"Now,  Brad,"  he  concluded,  "what  do  you  think 
of  it?" 

"I  believe  that  you  could  do  it,  Cap'n  Ez." 

"No;  I  couldn't  do  it,  either — not  alone.  I'm  too 
much  like  the  dinner  the  passenger  on  the  steam- 
boat told  about — I'm  good,  but  I  need  somethin'  to 
keep  me  down.  I'm  too  much  of  a  born  gambler; 
take  big  risks  for  the  fun  of  it.  But  you  and  me  could 
do  it.  Oh,  I've  watched  you,  Brad,  the  way  the 


HOME  AGAIN  153 

youngest  boy  watched  the  last  piece  of  cake !  You're 
cool-headed,  and  you  look  to  see  whether  there's  a 
rope  tied  to  the  anchor  'fore  you  heave  it  overboard. 
With  you  to  plan  and  figure,  and  me  to  whoop  her  up, 

why Well,  I've  made  mistakes  before  now,  but 

/  can't  see  any  reason  why  we  shouldn't,  in  two  or) 
three  years,  both  be  makin'  more  money  than  Will-  , 
iams  Brothers  would  ever  have  paid  us.    Now,  this  is 
how  you  can  come  in,  if  you  want  to." 

The  Captain's  plan  for  Bradley's  co-operation  was, 
briefly  stated,  just  this.  He  (Captain  Titcomb) 
would  provide  the  money  for  buying  the  Lizzie  and 
whatever  else  was  immediately  necessary.  Bradley 
would  contribute  his  savings  to  the  pile.  They  were 
to  be  partners  on  equal  shares,  but  Bradley  was  to 
pay,  from  his  share  of  whatever  profits  might  come 
from  time  to  time,  the  amount  necessary  to  make  his 
investment  the  equal  of  the  Captain's.  No  new  move 
was  to  be  made  without  the  consent  of  both  partners. 
It  was  a  very  generous  offer,  and  Bradley  said  so. 

uNo  generosity  about  it,"  protested  Captain  Ezra. 
"I'm  lookin'  out  for  myself,  and  I  need  you,  as  the 
tipsy*man  said  to  the  lamp-post.  I  tell  you,  honest — 
I  sha  Vt  go  into  this  thing  unless  you  go  in  with  me. 
Maybe  it's  a  fool  notion,  anyway.  Well,  there,"  he 
concluded,  "now  that  I've  unloaded  my  mind,  we'll 
go  down  to  the  Cape  this  afternoon.  I'll  look  'round, 
and  you  take  a  week  to  think  things  over  in.  At  the 
ends  of  the  week  you  can  say  'Yes,'  or  'No.'  " 

The  conversation  did  not  end  here.  Bradley  was, 
by  this  time,  catching  some  of  the  Captain's  enthusi- 


154  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

asm,  and  he  had  a  great  many  questions  to  ask.  The 
forenoon  was  over  by  the  time  they  had  finished,  and 
Bradley  agreed  to  take  the  week  to  uthink  it  over  in." 

They  caught  the  four  o'clock  train  for  Orham. 
On  the  way  down  Captain  Titcomb  said : 

"Brad,  if  it  ain't  too  much  of  a  strain  on  an  honest 
man's  conscience,  p'raps  'twould  be  a  good  thing  for 
us  to  say  nothin'  'bout  the  reel  reason  why  we  left  the 
Thomas  Doane.  What  do  you  think?" 

Bradley  looked  up  quickly. 

"Cap'n,  you  didn't  think  I  would  say  anything 
about  it,  did  you?" 

"No;  of  course  I  didn't.  Beg  pardon,  and  much 
obliged,  Brad." 

The  "old  maids"  were  washing  the  supper  dishes 
when  Bradley  surprised  them  by  walking  into  the 
dining-room.  When  the  first  shock  was  over,  the  sis- 
ters were  the  most  delighted  pair  in  Orham.  They 
insisted  on  preparing  a  bran-new  meal  for  their 
"boy,"  and  no  amount  of  protestation  on  his  part 
could  change  their  minds. 

"I  do  declare,  Bradley!"  said  Miss  Prissy,  cutting 
slices  of  bread  for  toast;  "I  honestly  b'lieved  you 
saved  Tempy  from  havin'  a  conniption  fit.  We 
hadn't  got  a  letter  from  you  for  over  a  week,  and  she 
was  about  ready  to  start  for  Boston  and  swim  after 
you.  Drownin'  was  the  least  thing  she  was  sure  had 
happened." 

"Don't  you  b'lieve  her,  Bradley,"  exclaimed  Miss 
Tempy,  hurrying  past  with  the  "fruit-cake"  box. 
"She  was  jest  as  worried  as  I  was,  and  only  last  night 


HOME  AGAIN  155 

she  said  if  you  wasn't  under  Cap'n  Titcomb's  care, 
she  didn't  know  as  she  should  sleep  a  wink." 

They  were  very  curious  to  know  why  Bradley  had 
come  home  so  unexpectedly,  and  when  they  learned 
that  he  had  left  the  Thomas  Doane  and,  not  only 
that,  but  that  the  Captain  also  had  left,  they  asked  one 
question  after  another.  Bradley  simply  said  that  the 
Captain  had  other  plans,  and  that  he  couldn't  tell  what 
they  were  yet.  The  sisters  knew  from  experience  that 
there  was  no  use  coaxing  when  their  ward  had  made 
up  his  mind,  and  so  changed  the  subject.  But  Miss 
Tempy  indulged  in  a  good  deal  of  silent  speculation 
as  she  watched  him  eat. 

After  supper  they  adjourned  to  the  sitting-room. 
Bradley  was  uneasy  and  several  times  glanced  at  the 
clock.  After  a  while  he  said  that,  if  they  didn't  mind, 
he  should  like  to  go  out  for  an  hour  or  so.  Of  course, 
the  sisters  said,  they  "didn't  mind,"  and  he  put  on  his 
hat  and  went. 

"There  now !"  exclaimed  Miss  Tempy,  as  the  door 
closed.  "Where  do  you  s'pose  he's  goin'?  To  see 
the  Cap'n,  I  presume  likely." 

Miss  Prissy  shook  her  head. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  answered,  dubiously. 
"Tempy,  Bradley's  a  young  man  now,  and  I  expect 
we  mustn't  look  to  have  as  much  of  his  society  as 
we  used  to.  I  have  a  sneakin'  notion  that,  if  you 
wanted  to  find  him  this  evenin',  'twould  be  a  good 
idea  to  hunt  up  Augusty  Baker." 

"Oh,  dear!"  sighed  her  sister.  "That  dreadful 
dog  girl!" 


156  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

Miss  Prissy's  shrewd  guess  wasn't  far  wrong. 
Bradley  passed  out  of  the  Allen  gate  only  to  open  the 
one  of  the  yard  adjoining.  His  knock  at  the  side 
door  apparently  started  a  canine  insurrection,  for 
there  was  a  tremendous  barking  and  growling  inside, 
and  when  old  Mrs.  Baker  answered  the  knock  the 
heads  of  Tuesday  and  Winfield,  the  only  survivors  of 
Gus'  troop  of  pets,  protruded  from  either  side  of  her 
skirt.  Both  dogs  and  old  lady  were  surprised  and 
glad  to  see  the  visitor. 

"Why,  Bradley  Nickerson!"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Baker.  "How  do  you  do?  Come  right  in,  won't 
you?  Git  out!  Git  out,  you  provokin'  critters! 
Seems  to  me  the  older  these  dogs  git,  the  worse  they 
are.  But  'Gusty  thinks  as  much  of  'em  as  if  they  was 
solid  gold.  When  Peter  was  run  over  by  the  cars — 
and  'twas  a  mercy,  'cause  he  had  the  mange  comin'  on 
and  was  a  sight  to  behold;  'Gusty  said  herself  he 
looked  like  a  map  of  the  South  Sea  Islands — she  felt 
as  bad  as  if  'twas  a  human,  every  bit.  No;  she  ain't 
in,  jest  now.  It's  prayer-meetin'  night,  and  she 
thought  she'd  go — to  save  the  reputation  of  the 
fam'ly,  she  said.  She's  jest  as  much  of  an  odd  stick 
as  ever.  Well,  I'm  sorry  you  won't  step  in  and  wait. 
Come  again,  won't  you  ?  How's  Tempy's  cold  ?  Did 
Cap'n  Titcomb  come  down  with  you?  You  don't 
say!  Good-night." 

The  Bakers  attended  the  Baptist  Church,  and 
thither  walked  Bradley,  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and 
his  head  full  of  the  wrecking  scheme.  Already  the 
germs  scattered  by  the  Captain  had  begun  to  take  ef- 


HOME  AGAIN  157 

feet,  and  the  proposition  looked  more  and  more  at- 
tractive. It  appealed  to  his  ambition,  and  there  was. 
an  adventurous  element  in  it  that  was  especially  allur- 
ing. But  the  whole  thing  was  such  a  radical  depart- 
ure from  all  his  former  plans  for  the  future  that  he 
did  not  intend  to  decide  offhand ;  a  week  was  not  too 
much  time.  He  wanted  to  talk  the  mater  over  with 
Gus,  for  she  was  a  good  listener  and  was  almost  like 
a  brother  so  far  as  interest  in  masculine  affairs  was 
concerned.  He  had  not  seen  her  for  nearly  six 
months,  although  he  had  been  at  home  three  times 
during  that  period.  Once  she  had  been  at  New  Bed- 
ford on  a  visit,  once  she  was  ill,  and  the  third  time 
both  she  and  her  grandmother  had  gone  to  Boston  on 
a  Mechanics1  Fair  excursion.  Her  letters  came  regu- 
larly, however,  and  were  bright  and  "newsy"  always. 
It  was  nearly  nine  o'clock,  and  the  fence  in  front  of 
the  little  church  was  ornamented  by  a  row  of  Orham's 
young  men,  who  were  waiting  for  the  meeting  to 
come  to  an  end.  Prayer-meetings  in  Orham  seemed 
:o  be  held  especially  for  the  benefit  of  feminine 
worshippers  and  a  few  old  men.  The  young  fellows 
drifted  around  to  the  church  just  before  nine  o'clock, 
sat  on  the  fence,  and  whittled  and  told  stories.  Then, 
as  the  final  hymn  was  sung,  they  formed  in  line  at 
either  side  of  the  vestry  door,  and,  when  the  young 
women  came  out,  stepped  forward  to  "see  them 
home."  The  old  people  were  the  only  objectors  to 
this  performance;  the  girls  didn't  object  at  all,  and 
the  clergyman  only  mildly  criticised.  Possibly  he  re- 
alized that  the  sense  of  religious  duty  which  filled  the 


158  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

vestry  settees  with  rows  of  pretty  faces  might  be  con- 
siderably weakened  by  the  absence  of  that  other  row 
on  the  fence. 

Bradley  joined  the  fence  brigade  and  was  hailed  by 
half  a  dozen  acquaintances,  mostly  old  school-fellows. 
He  heard  all  the  news,  and  a  lot  more  that  might  be- 
come news  if  it  ever  happened. 

"Sam  Hammond  was  down  last  month,"  so 
"Hart"  Sears  informed  him.  "Talk  about  dudes! 
Say,  Snuppy,  wan't  he  a  lulla-cooler?" 

"I  should  smile  if  he  wan't,"  replied  "Snuppy" 
Black.  "Gold  watch — and  clothes !  You  never  saw 
such  clothes!  Sam's  working  for  the  Metropolitan 
Wrecking  Company,  and  he  must  be  getting  rich. 
And  he  has  a  good  time  in  New  York.  'Member 
those  yarns  about  the  girls,  Hart?" 

Sears  laughed  and  winked  knowingly.  "Sam's  a 
great  feller  for  girls,"  he  observed.  "He  was  chas- 
in'  'em  down  here,  I  tell  you.  Gus  Baker  was  the  one 
he  chased  most,  but  Gus  can  keep  him  guessin';  he 
ain't  the  only  one  that's  been  runnin'  after  her — hey, 
Snup  ?"  Then  the  whole  row  laughed  uproariously. 

Bradley,  somehow,  didn't  enjov  the  rest  of  the  con- 
versation. In  the  first  place,  he  didn't  relish  the  idea, 
so  suddenly  brought  home  to  him,  that  "fellers"  were 
running  after  Gus,  and  particularly  he  didn't  care  to 
have  Sam  Hammond  among  the  runners.  He  had 
met  Sam  once  or  twice  in  New  York;  a  big  chap  he 
was,  handsome  and  well  dressed,  in  a  rather  loud 
fashion,  and  with  a  boastful  knowledge  of  life  about 
town.  Bradley  was  not  a  prig,  but  saloons  and  after- 


HOME  AGAIN  159 

theatre  suppers  had  little  attraction  for  him,  even  if 
his  salary  had  been  large  enough  to  pay  the  bills.  He 
had  wondered,  idly,  how  Sam  could  afford  the  "fun" 
he  was  always  describing. 

As  for  Gus,  Bradley's  feeling  for  her  was  not  in 
the  least  sentimental,  but  now  there  was  a  new  and 
odd  sensation  of  jealousy.  Evidently  she  was  consid- 
ered attractive  by  others,  and  it  seemed  that  he  was 
not  the  only  young  man  who  had  a  share  in  her 
thoughts.  She  had  not  written  him  about  Hammond, 
and  he  didn't  like  that. 

The  melodeon  in  the  vestry  struck  up  "God  be  with 
you  till  me  meet  again,"  and  the  loungers  on  the  fence 
began  to  move  over  toward  the  door.  He  went  with 
them,  standing  a  little  way  back  from  the  entrance. 
The  final  verse  of  the  hymn  died  away  in  deaf  Mrs. 
Piper's  tremulous  falsetto.  Then  there  was  a  hush 
as  the  benediction  was  pronounced,  the  door  swung 
open,  and,  with  giggles  and  a  rustle  of  conversation, 
the  worshippers  began  to  emerge. 

The  young  ladies  were  delightfully  unconscious 
that  any  one  was  waiting  for  them.  They  were  so 
surprised  when  the  right  man,  smiling  bashfully, 
stepped  forward.  "Why,  hello!  Are  you  here?  Yes; 
I  s'pose  so.  Good  night,  Emmie.  Don't  forget  what 
I  told  you."  And  the  couple — the  "beau"  with  a 
tight  grip  on  his  sweetheart's  arm  just  above  the 
elbow — disappeared  around  the  corner. 

Bradley  looked  for  Gus,  and  at  last  he  saw  her. 
She  was  talking  to  Mr.  Langworthy,  and  the  light 
from  the  bracket  lamp  in  the  entry  shone  upon  her 


160  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

face.  Again  he  decided,  just  as  he  had  when  he  left 
her  before  going  to  sea,  that  she  was  pretty,  but  now 
he  realized  that  hers  was  not  a  doll-like  prettiness,  but 
that  there  was  character  in  her  dark  eyes  and  the  ex- 
pression of  her  mouth.  It  seemed  to  him,  too,  that  she 
was  well  dressed,  and  Bradley  had  not  been  accus- 
tomed to  notice  the  dress  of  his  female  acquaintances. 
Not  that  Gus  wore  anything  rich  or  costly,  but  her  hat 
wasn't  purple  and  yellow,  like  Georgiana  Bailey's, 
and  whatever  she  had  on  seemed  to  be  the  right  thing. 
It  was  not  to  be  wondered  at,  so  he  thought,  that  Sam 
Hammond  and  the  rest  ran  after  her,  and  again  he 
felt  that  odd,  uneasy  jealousy. 

She  came  out  and  stood  on  the  step,  buttoning  her 
glove.  Two  of  the  young  fellows  stepped  out  of  the 
line  toward  her.  She  spoke  to  both  of  them  and 
laughed.  Then  she  caught  sight  of  Bradley,  who  also 
had  moved  into  the  lamplight,  and,  brushing  past  the 
rival  pair  of  volunteer  escorts,  she  held  out  her  hand. 

"Why,  Brad!"  she  exclaimed.  "Where  on  earth 
did  you  come  from?  I'm  ever  so  glad  to  see  you. 
How  do  you  do?" 

Bradley  shook  hands  and  said,  "How  do  you  do?" 
There  was  no  earthly  reason  why  he  should  be  embar- 
rassed, but  he  was,  just  a  little.  He  stammered,  and 
then  asked  if  he  might  have  the  pleasure  of  "seeing 
her  home." 

Gus  laughed — a  jolly,  unaffected  laugh. 

"Why,  of  course  you  may,"  she  said.  "That's  what 
you  came  here  for,  isn't  it?  I  hope  so,  at  any  rate." 

Bradley  laughed  too,  and  admitted  that  he  guessed 


HOME  AGAIN  161 

that  was  about  it.  Gus  took  his  arm,  and  they 
moved  dawn  the  path  and  down  the  rough  stone  steps 
to  the  sidewalk.  The  two  young  fellows  who  had 
been  so  unceremoniously  slighted  gazed  after  them 
blankly  for  a  moment,  and  then  turned  to  see  if  there 
were  any  more  eligibles  left. 

"Why,  I  haven't  seen  you  for  an  age,"  said  Gus. 
"And  you  haven't  written  for  nearly  three  weeks. 
Why  did  you  come  home  now  ?  You  didn't  expect  to 
come  home  so  soon,  did  you  ?" 

Bradley  explained  why  he  had  come  home.  Cap* 
tain  Titcomb  had  left  the  Thomas  Doane,  he  said, 
and  he  had  left  with  him.  He  didn't  tell  the  real  rea- 
son for  the  leaving,  but  hinted  at  dissatisfaction  with 
the  owners.  To  head  off  further  questions  on  this 
ticklish  subject  he  asked  Gus  what  she  had  been  doing 
that  winter. 

"Well,"  she  said,  "I  graduated  from  high  school, 
for  one  thing,  and  I'm  keeping  house  for  grandma.  I 
guess  that's  about  all." 

"What's  been  going  on  in  town?    Any  dances?" 

"Yes;  a  few.  I  went  to  the  Washington's  Birth- 
day Ball,  but  it  wasn't  much  fun.  Most  of  the  floor 
committee  were  old,  married  people,  and  about  every 
other  dance  was  'Hull's  Victory'  or  a  quadrille. 
Round  dances,  you  know,  are  wicked — especially  if 
you  don't  know  how  to  dance  them." 

"You  wrote  me  you  went  to  that.  Sam  Ham- 
mand's  been  home,  hasn't  he?" 

"Oh,  yes;  I  went  to  the  ball  with  him.  He's  a 
lovely  dancer,  and  we  waltzed  whenever  they  played 


1 62  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

a  waltz  tune,  no  matter  whether  the  rest  were  busy 
with  a  quadrille  or  not.  I  suppose  it  wasn't  very  po- 
lite, but — oh,  dear!  a  ball  is  supposed  to  be  a  good 
time,  and  I'd  rather  wash  dishes  than  have  my  toes 
stepped  on  by  Captain  Bailey  in  a  contra-dance.  Do 
you  ever  see  Sam  in  New  York?" 

"No;  not  very  often." 

"He  must  be  doing  splendidly  in  his  business.  He 
seems  to  have  lots  of  money,  and  he  tells  the  most 
exciting  things  about  diving  and  saving  things  from 
wrecks.  He's  very  handsome,  too;  don't  you  think 
so?" 

"I  don't  know;  never  noticed." 

Gus  laughed,  apparently  at  nothing  in  particular. 
"I  think,"  she  said,  slyly,  "that  going  away  must  be 
a  great  help  to  a  person's  looks.  Most  of  my  friends 
who  have  been  away  have  improved  very  much." 

Bradley  glanced  at  her. 

"Shall  I  say  'Thank  you'  ?"  he  inquired,  drily. 

"Why,  of  course!" 

"All  right.  Much  obliged.  Staying  at  home 
seems  to  agree  with  some  people ;  but  I  suppose  you 
didn't  know  that?" 

'Shall  I  make  you  a  curtsey,  or  be  cross  at  the  sar- 
casm? What  makes  you  act  so  different  to-night? 
Why  don't  you  tell  me  what  you  are  going  to  do,  now 
that  you've  given  up  your  position  ?" 

"I  wasn't  sure  that  you'd  be  interested.  You  didn't 
ask!" 

"You  didn't  use  to  wait  to  be  asked.  Of  course  I 
want  to  know.  Tell  me,  please." 


HOMEAGAIN  163 

So  Bradley  told  her  of  Captain  Titcomb's  idea  con- 
cerning the  purchase  of  the  Lizzie,  and  the  offer  of 
partnership  in  the  wrecking  business.  As  he  talked, 
his  growing  interest  in  the  plan  became  more  evident, 
and  he  spoke  of  it  as  something  already  nearly  de- 
cided upon.  "What  do  you  think  of  it?"  he  asked, 
in  conclusion. 

"Why,  I  don't  know,"  replied  Gus.  "If  it  all 
works  out  as  the  Cap'n  hopes  it  will  be  a  fine  thing; 
but  isn't  it  rather  risky?  It  means  staying  at  home 
here  in  Orham,  where  people's  ideas  get  into  a  rut,  it 
seems  to  me.  The  cities  seem  so  big  and  to  have  such 
chances  for  a  man.  You  know  yourself,  Brad,  that 
you've  improved  a  lot  since  you  went  away." 

"I  haven't  got  a  gold  watch  yet,  nor  any  fine 
clothes,  and  my  dancing  wouldn't  draw  a  crowd,  I 
guess." 

"Don't  be  silly.  Sam  is  a  good  waltzer,  and  he  has 
improved  in  his  manners  and  in  other  ways.  I 
shouldn't  want  you  to  settle  down  into  nothing  but  a 
'longshoreman.  I  guess  I'm  like  Miss  Tempy — I 
hoped  you'd  be  captain  of  an  ocean  liner  some  of 
these  days." 

"Well,  I  don't  mean  to  cramp  myself  to  'longshore- 
man size,  just  because  I  stay  in  the  village.  It  looks 
to  me  like  a  chance — a  good  chance — to  be  my  own 
boss  and  make  something  of  myself.  I  hoped  you'd 
see  it  that  way." 

"Perhaps  I  shall,  when  I  get  more  used  to  it.  Tell 
me  more,  please." 

They  had  reached  the  little  house,  and,  leaning  on 


1 64  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

the  gate  under  the  big  silver-leaf  tree,  Bradley  again 
went  over  the  details  of  the  new  plan.  Gus  was  inter- 
ested, and  asked  many  questions,  but  to  both  of  them 
the  interview  was  not  entirely  satisfactory.  The  old, 
boy-and-girl,  whole-hearted  exchange  of  confidences 
seemed  to  be  lacking.  To  Bradley,  in  particular,  as 
he  turned  away  after  saying  "Good-night,"  the  con- 
sciousness of  a  difference  in  his  relation  with  his  old- 
time  "chum"  was  keen.  She  was  interested  in  him 
and  in  his  hopes  and  plans,  but  she  had  plans  and 
hopes  of  her  own  now,  and  perhaps  he  was  not  so 
much  the  central  figure  as  he  used  to  be. 

He  said  nothing  to  the  "old  maids"  about  where 
he  had  been,  but,  although  he  didn't  know  it,  this  was 
not  necessary.  After  he  had  gone  to  his  room,  Miss 
Tempy  whispered : 

"Prissy,  I  peeked  under  the  window  shade  in  the 
parlor  for  as  much  as  five  minutes,  and  he  and  she  was 
leanin'  over  that  gate  and  talkin'  away  as  if  there 
wasn't  anything  else  in  the  whole  world.  Do  you 
s'pose  we  ought  to  say  anything?" 

"Say  anything!"  sighed  the  sister.  "What  should 
we  say?  Bradley's  a  man  now,  and  you  and  me  can't 
put  him  to  bed  without  his  supper  any  more." 

Next  day  Bradley  called  on  the  Captain.  The  lat- 
ter had  seen  Caleb  Burgess,  and  the  Lizzie  could  be 
bought  for  a  very  reasonable  sum.  Captain  Titcomb 
was  also  preparing  a  long  table  of  figures  showing  the 
cost  of  what  was  needed  to  fit  her  up.  They  talked 
for  over  an  hour,  but  Bradley  was  not  yet  ready  to 
decide ;  he  would  take  his  full  week,  he  said. 


HOME  AGAIN  165 

But  by  the  end  of  the  week  his  mind  was  made  up ; 
he  was  ready  to  take  the  chance  that  the  Captain 
offered.  He  told  Gus  so,  and  she  agreed  that,  per- 
haps, he  was  doing  right.  He  told  the  "old  maids," 
and  so  knocked  Miss  Tempy's  air-castles  into  smith- 
ereens in  one  tremendous  crash.  Not  that  this  was  an 
irretrievable  calamity,  for  she  immediately  began  to 
build  new  ones  on  a  different  plan. 

"Isn't  it  splendid !"  she  exclaimed.  "Now  he'll  be 
home  all  the  time,  as  you  might  say,  and  we  won't 
have  to  worry  when  it  storms,  'cause  we'll  know  jest 
where  he  is.  And  when  he  begins  to  get  rich,  we'll 
have  the  barn  shingled,  and  maybe  the  house  can  be 
painted.  I  think  a  cream-yellow  with  dark  green 
trimmin's  would  be  nice;  that's  the  way  Cap'n  Jona- 
dab  Wixon  is  goin'  to  paint  his  house.  And,  oh, 
Prissy!  perhaps,  now  that  Bradley  and  he  are  part- 
ners in  bus'ness,  the  Cap'n'll  come  here  once  in  a 
while,  I  hope  he  will;  his  advice  is  so  valuable." 

The  partnership  articles  were  signed,  Bradley  drew 
his  money  from  the  savings  bank,  and  the  Lizzie 
changed  hands.  The  next  month  was  a  very  busy 
one,  for  they  were  at  work  on  the  schooner  every  day, 
refitting  and  rigging.  One  noon  of  the  fourth  week 
the  Captain  came  down  to  the  wharf  with  a  Boston 
paper  in  his  hand. 

"Brad,"  he  said  abruptly — they  were  alone — "I 
b'lieve  I  never  told  you  the  full  inside  of  that  last 
v'yage  of  ours.  'Twas  this  way :  When  we  got  into 
New  York  on  the  trip  before  the  last  one,  Williams 
he  sent  for  me,  and  nothin'  would  do  but  I  must  go 


1 66  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

to  dinner  with  him.  I  thought  'twas  queer,  for  Will- 
iams ain't  heavin'  dinners  'round  the  way  you  feed 
corn  to  chickens ;  but  when  I  saw  the  lay-out  that  noon 
I  knew  somethin'  was  up.  Talk  about  your  feeds ! 
Why,  Brad,  there  was  oysters,  and  soup,  and  lobster 
a  la  poleyvoo — or  somethin'  like  it — and  turkey,  and 
ice  cream,  and  the  Lord  knows  what.  I  swan !  I  ex- 
pected to  see  'em  bring  on  fricasseed  bird  of  paradise 
and  giraffe  steak  'fore  they  got  through.  And  cham- 
pagne !  Say,  I  could  have  swilled  champagne  to  float 
the  Thomas  Doane  and  had  enough  left  for  a  bath 
for  all  hands  and  the  cook.  But  I  kind  of  shortened 
sail  on  the  champagne  tack ;  I  wanted  my  deadlights 
clear  for  what  was  comin'.  Then,  when  'twas  over, 
and  we  was  burnin'  dollar  bills  in  the  shape  of  cigars, 
your  old  messmate  Williams  begins  to  heave  over  the 
ground  bait.  Wasn't  I  sick  of  bein'  skipper  of  an 
undertaker's  cart  ?  I  was  capable  of  runnin'  the  fast- 
est craft  afloat — best  man  they  ever  had,  and  so  on. 
Talk  about  taffy !  He  poured  it  on  till  I  thought  I'd 
stick  to  the  chair.  Then  I  was  to  have  the  new  four- 
master,  only — what  should  they  do  with  the  Doane? 
He  couldn't  sell  her  for  enough  to  pay  the  agent's 
commission.  If  she  was  piled  up  on  the  beach,  why, 

the  insurance  would 

"Well,  you  see  the  drift.  I  smelt  bilge  before  the 
pumps  had  worked  five  minutes.  First,  I  said  'No,' 
flat-footed,  jest  like  your  little  tin  honest  man.  That 
was  the  first  day.  But  that  was  only  the  beginnin'. 
He  kept  at  it  all  the  time.  There  was  no  chance  of 
losin'  a  life ;  'twas  what  was  done  fifty  times  a  year. 


HOME  AGAIN  167 

See  what  was  comin'  to  me.  More  money?  Why, 
sure.  And  the  new  schooner,  best  in  the  bus'ness. 
He'd  always  swore  by  me.  His  brother  that's  dead 
used  to  say  Cap'n  Titcomb  would  stick  to  owners' 
orders,  if  he  was  told  to  jump  overboard.  They'd 
treated  me  better  than  any  skipper  they  ever  had,  and 
now,  the  first  time  I  was  asked  to  really  do  somethin* 
to  help  the  firm,  I  went  back  on  'em. 

"Never  mind  the  rest.  Fin'lly  they  got  me  to  say 
that  maybe  I'd  do  it.  And  I  hated  myself  every  min- 
ute afterwards.  But,  you  see,  I'd  always  been  used  to 
takin'  risks,  liked  to  take  'em,  and  I  ain't  got  your 
saintly  disposition,  my  son.  Well,  let  it  go  at  that. 
This  in  the  paper  is  what  started  me  talkin'  about  it 
to-day,  and  I  tell  you  honest,  it  wan't  surprise  enough 
to  give  me  a  shock  of  palsy." 

Bradley  took  the  paper  and  saw  on  the  page  indi- 
cated the  words,  "Wreck  on  the  Long  Island  Sand 
Bars.  The  Schooner  Thomas  Doane  Lost.  All 
Hands  Saved."  He  glanced  over  the  article,  which 
briefly  stated  that  the  three-masted  schooner  Thomas 
Doane,  Burke  master,  had  struck  on  the  shoals  off 
Long  Island  and  would  be  a  total  loss.  The  crew, 
after  trying  in  vain  to  save  the  vessel,  had  taken  to 
the  boats  and  reached  shore  in  safety. 

"I  didn't  believe  they'd  dare  do  it!"  exclaimed 
Bradley.  "We  know,  and  they  know  we  know." 

"Who'll  tell?"  asked  the  Captain,  shortly.  "Not 
me,  for  I  was  in  it  as  bad  as  the  rest.  Not  you,  for 
they  know  you  and  me  were  thicker'n  flies  on  a  molas- 
ses stopper.  No;  'twas  'Good-bye,  Susan  Jane,'  so 


1 68  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

far  as  the  old  Doane  was  concerned,  and  I've  been 
expectin'  it.  Well,  I  wasn't  at  the  funeral,  so  let's 
forgit  it." 

And  apparently  Captain  Titcomb  did  forget  it;  a 
good  many  months  were  to  pass  before  Bradley  was 
again  to  hear  his  friend  mention  that  subject. 


CHAPTER    IX 

WRECKING  AND  WALTZING. 

IT  was  a  May  morning  off  Setuckit  Point.  The 
Point  itself  was  in  the  middle  distance,  with  the 
lighthouse  top  shining  black  against  the  sky,  and 
the  little  cluster  of  fishing  shanties  showing  brown 
amid  the  white  sand  dunes  and  green  beach  grass. 
The  life-saving  station  was  perched  on  the  highest  of 
the  dunes  and  its  cupola  was  almost  as  conspicuous  as 
the  lighthouse.  The  thick  cloud,  apparently  of  mos- 
quitoes, hovering  over  the  Point,  was,  in  reality,  the 
flock  of  mackerel  gulls  that  are  always  hunting  for 
sand  eels  on  the  flat.  Low  down  across  the  horizon 
miles  beyond  was  smeared  the  blue  and  yellow  streak 
that  marked  the  mainland  of  the  Cape. 

169 


i yo  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

To  the  right,  only  a  half  mile  away,  but  through 
the  darker  water  that  indicated  the  ship  channel,  a 
four-masted  schooner  was  moving  swiftly,  the  sun- 
shine flashing  sparks  from  her  cabin  windows  and 
marking  high  lights  and  shadows  on  her  swelling  can- 
vas. Ahead  of  her,  against  the  sky  line,  was  the 
light-ship  that  marked  the  turning  point  in  the  course ; 
behind,  not  quite  so  far  away,  was  the  other  light- 
ship that  she  had  just  passed.  More  schooners  were 
following  her,  strung  out  in  a  long  line,  and  others, 
bound  in  the  opposite  direction,  were  standing 
inshore  or  heading  out  to  sea  as  they  beat  up 
in  the  face  of  the  brisk  wind.  An  occasional 
steamer  or  an  ocean  tug  with  a  tow  flaunted  a 
dingy  streamer  of  smoke  here  and  there  amid  the 
graceful  schooners. 

Along  the  edge  of  the  channel,  and  sprinkled  amid 
the  blue,  were  patches  of  light  green  water  where  the 
waves  ran  higher  and  broke  occasionally.  There 
were  the  shoals,  the  "Razorback,"  the  "Boneyard," 
and  the  rest.  If  it  were  possible,  and  fashionable,  to 
erect  tombstones  for  lives  lost  at  sea,  these  hidden 
sandbars  would  bristle  with  them.  Not  a  winter 
month  that  passes  but  vessels  are  driven  ashore  here, 
and  the  wicked  tides  and  winds  scatter  their  timbers 
far  and  wide.  The  Setuckit  life-saving  crew  have  few 
restful  hours  from  October  to  May. 

On  the  edge  of  one  of  these  shoals,  just  over  in 
deep  water,  a  little  schooner  lay  at  anchor,  rocking 
and  plunging  incessantly.  Her  sails  were  down  and 
only  one  man  was  aboard.  Half  a  mile  away,  just 


WRECKING  AND  WAL  TZING        1 7  r 

where  the  tail  of  the  shoal  made  out  into  the  channel, 
two  dories  were  moving  slowly  in  parallel  courses, 
trailing  a  rope  between  them.  The  schooner  was  the 
Lizzie,  the  man  aboard  her  was  Barney  Small,  once  a 
stage  driver,  but  now,  forced  out  of  business  by  the 
new  railroad,  back  again  at  his  old  trade — wrecking. 
Captain  Ezra  Titcomb  was  rowing  one  dory  and 
Bradley  Nickerson  the  other.  They  were  "anchor 
dragging." 

When  the  gales  begin  in  the  fall,  Setuckit  Point, 
lying  as  it  does  at  the  edge  of  the  fairway  between 
Boston  and  New  York,  is  sometimes  a  natural  break- 
water and  forced  anchorage  for  the  coasting  vessels. 
Perhaps  the  skipper  of  a  large  three  or  four-masted 
schooner,  caught  just  at  night  by  a  heavy  sea  and  a 
rising  gale,  doesn't  relish  the  idea  of  passing  through 
the  shoals  and  over  the  dangerous  "rips'7  beyond.  He 
determines  to  anchor  in  the  lee  of  the  Point  and  wait 
for  daylight  or  to  ride  out  the  gale.  The  sandy  bot- 
tom is  bad  holding  ground  for  anchors.  By  and  by 
the  wind  and  the  roaring  tide  get  their  grip  on  the 
schooner  and  the  skipper  sees  that  she  is  slowly  but 
surely  being  forced  on  the  shoals.  Perhaps  he  tries 
to  haul  the  anchor  inboard  again ;  perhaps  time  is  too 
short  to  risk  in  the  attempt,  and  the  chain  is  let  go 
entirely.  At  any  rate,  a  big  anchor,  with  fathoms  of 
heavy  chain,  is  left  fast  in  the  sand,  and  the  schooner 
— well,  if  she  is  lucky,  she  makes  an  offing  or  finds 
better  holding  ground  at  another  place. 

Big  anchors  and  chains  are  worth  money,  and  it 
may  be  that  the  skipper  writes  to  a  wrecking  company 


1 7  2  PAR  TNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

telling  where  the  anchor  may  be  found  and  what  he 
will  pay  for  the  recovery.  Or,  just  as  likely,  he  says 
nothing  about  it,  and  then  "findings  are  keepings, " 
and  the  wrecker  who  dredges  up  the  anchor  makes 
whatever  he  can  sell  it  for  at  Vineyard  Haven  or  Bos- 
ton. Anchor  dragging  fills  in  time  between  salvage 
jobs  and  it  pays. 

Bradley  and  the  Captain  were  anchor  dragging 
merely  on  speculation  this  time.  There  had  been  a 
dozen  wrecks  off  the  Point  the  previous  winter  and  a 
number  of  anchors  lost  beside.  They  had  already 
picked  up  two— one  by  the  Boneyard  shoal  and  one,  a 
big  fellow,  away  out  on  the  rips. 

The  two  dories  moved  slowly  down  the  edge  of 
the  shoal,  separated  by  a  distance  of  perhaps  a  hun- 
dred yards.  The  line  between  them,  weighted  with  a 
lead  sinker  at  each  end,  was  dragging  along  the  bot- 
tom. 

"Fisherman's  luck,"  shouted  Captain  Ezra  from 
his  dory.  "Queer  we  ain't  found  it  yit,  Brad.  We're 
right  on  the  range  Eldredge  gave  me — the  P'int 
Lighthouse  and  the  pole  on  Black's  shanty,  in  line  to 
the  no'theast,  and  the  Harnissport  steeple  and 
Thompson's  windmill  to  the  no'th.  I  suspicion  that 
we're  too  nigh  inshore.  Never  mind;  we'll  keep  on 
for  a  little  ways  further." 

They  were  dragging  for  an  anchor  lost  by  the 
coasting  schooner  Mary  D.  a  month  before.  She  had 
been  caught  by  the  tide  and  the  chain  had  been  let  go 
with  a  run.  One  of  the  hands  aboard — Eldredge  by 
name — was  an  Orham  man,  and  he  it  was  who  had 


WRECKING  AND  WAL  TZING        173 

had  the  presence  of  mind  to  take  the  "ranges"  men- 
tioned by  the  Captain,  which  information  he  had  sold 
to  his  fellow-townsmen  for  a  five  dollar  bill. 

Bradley  and  the  Captain  began  rowing  once  more. 
They  had  gone  but  a  little  way  when,  slowly  but 
surely,  the  dories  began  to  draw  nearer  to  each  other. 
Bradley,  looking  over  the  side,  saw  that  the  "drag 
line"  no  longer  hung  straight  down,  but,  tightly 
stretched  by  whatever  was  holding  it  on  the  bottom, 
led  off  diagonally  astern. 

"Got  a  bite!"  he  shouted. 

"Yup,"  replied  the  Captain,  shortly. 

They  kept  on  rowing  easily,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
the  pressure  on  the  line  had  brought  the  dories  side 
by  side.  Then  Bradley  passed  his  end  of  the  rope  to 
his  partner,  who  began  hauling  in  with  care.  By  this 
operation  the  skipper's  dory  was  soon  brought  direct- 
ly over  the  spot  where  lay  the  hidden  object.  Bradley 
rowed  his  own  boat  alongside. 

"Now,  then,"  said  Captain  Titcomb;  "let's  see  if 
she's  got  the  right  complexion." 

He  leaned  over  the  side,  and,  taking  one  end  of  the 
line  in  each  hand,  pulled  them  tight  and  sawed  vigor- 
ously back  and  forth,  thus  drawing  a  section  of  the 
rope  again  and  again  under  the  treasure-trove  below. 
Then  he  paid  out  one  end  of  the  line  and  hauled  in 
the  other  until  this  section  came  to  the  surface ;  it  was 
marked  with  a  dull  red  stain — iron  rust. 

"And  that's  all  right  so  fur,"  commented  the  Cap- 
tain. "She's  a  lady  of  color,  anyhow.  Looks  to  me 
as  if  that  bread  on  the  waters  that  I  cast,  in  the  shape 


174  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

of  a  fiver,  to  Brother  Eldredge,  had  brought  forth 
fruit  in  due  season;  hey,  Brad?  Pass  me  that  way 
line." 

The  smaller  end  of  the  "way  line,"  a  stout  rope 
tapering  from  one  inch  to  three  inches  in  thickness, 
was  spliced  to  the  "drag  line,"  and  drawn  down  and 
under  the  supposed  anchor  until  the  latter  was  looped 
by  it.  Then  the  "messenger,"  an  iron  shackle  or  col- 
lar fastened  by  a  bolt  or  pin,  was  clamped  about  the 
upper  parts  of  the  loop.  To  this  "messenger"  was 
also  attached  a  small  cord. 

"Now  then,  Brad,"  said  the  Captain,  "we'll  put  on 
her  necktie." 

The  "way  line"  was  drawn  tight  and  the  heavy 
"messenger"  plunged  out  of  sight  beneath  the  water. 
It  slid  down  to  the  end  of  the  "way  line,"  thus  hold- 
ing with  a  tenacious  grip  the  submerged  object.  They 
tested  with  the  "messenger,"  pulling  it  up  with  the 
cord  and  letting  it  drop  again.  It  struck  solidly  and 
with  the  tingle  of  metal  against  metal. 

*  'Sartinly  feels  promisin',  as  the  boy  said  when  he 
crept  down  in  the  dark  the  night  afore  Christmas  to 
paw  over  his  stockin'.  Better  bring  up  the  schooner, 
Brad." 

Bradley  pulled  down  to  the  Lizzie.  Barney  and  he 
hoisted  canvas  enough  to  give  them  steerage  way  and 
the  little  vessel  ran  alongside  of  the  Captain's  dory. 
Then  the  ropes  were  rigged  through  the  block  in  the 
forerigging,  and  Bradley  and  Barney  fitted  in  the 
brakes  of  the  clumsy  hand-windless,  while  Captain 
Titcomb  stood  by  the  bulwark. 


WRECKING  AND  WAL TZING        175 

"H'ist  away !"  commanded  the  skipper. 

The  windlass  creaked,  the  cable  tightened  and  the 
blocks  groaned  as  a  heavy  weight  was  lifted  from  the 
bottom.  A  minute  or  two  more,  and  the  Captain 
signalled  to  ease  up. 

"Brad,"  he  said,  "come  here  a  minute.  This  ain't 
any  anchor." 

Barney  held  the  windlass  brake  while  Bradley 
moved  to  the  rail. 

"Look  at  that,"  said  Captain  Ezra,  pointing. 

Through  the  green  water  the  "messenger"  showed 
dimly,  holding  in  its  grip  the  upper  part  of  a  three- 
cornered  iron  frame,  as  unlike  an  anchor  as  anything 
could  be. 

"What  on  earth "  began  Bradley.  The  Cap- 
tain grinned. 

"Never  saw  anything  like  that  afore,  hey?  Well, 
I  cal'late  I  have.  What  do  you  say  to  a  bell-buoy 
frame?" 

"Why,  sure !"  Bradley's  tone  was  a  disgusted  one. 
"No  wonder  we  thought  it  was  an  anchor.  Got  adrift 
and  smashed  up  by  the  ice  somewhere.  Well,  weVe 
had  our  work  for  nothing.  Shall  we  cast  off?" 

"Not  yet,  son.  You  and  Barney  heave  a  little  more 
elbow  grease  into  that  windlass.  Might  as  well  shake 
hands  with  the  critter,  now  weVe  got  him  nigh 
enough  to  see  his  face." 

"But  that  framework  isn't  worth  anything." 

"  'Tain't  the  stockin'  that  counts  always ;  it's  what 
Santa  Claus  puts  inside  of  it.  I  have  a  notion  this 
feller  may  be  a  s'prise  package.  H'ist  away  1" 


176  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

More  of  the  wet  rope  came  aboard.  Captain  Ezra 
chuckled. 

"I  guessed  pretty  nigh  that  time,"  he  muttered. 
"Now,  Brad,  come  here." 

The  iron  frame,  green  with  seaweed  and  trimmed 
with  kelp  and  shells,  hung  half  out  of  the  water.  At 
its  base,  just  above  the  battered  and  crushed  cone  that 
had  been  the  buoy,  a  big  bronze  bell  glistened  and 
dripped. 

"And  I  can  git  twenty-five  dollars  for  that  bell," 
crowed  the  Captain.  "Which,  in  the  present  state  of 
this  corporation's  finances,  mustn't  be  considered  a 
widow's  mite.  Well,  this  ain't  what  I  was  after,  but 
it's  none  the  less  welcome,  as  the  cat  said  when  it 
found  the  mouse  swimmin'  in  the  milk  pail.  Swing 
her  in,  Barney !  Now  we'll  go  back  and  have  another 
try  for  the  Mary  D.'s  anchor." 

The  bell-buoy  was  not  the  only  surprise  that  old 
ocean  gave  them,  although  it  was  the  only  one  in 
which  there  was  any  money.  Once  they  dragged  to 
the  surface  the  rusted  remnant  of  a  galley  stove,  and 
once,  when  the  "drag  line"  was  hauled  in,  at  the  end 
of  an  unsuccessful  day's  work,  wrapped  about  it  was 
the  torn  and  draggled  remnant  of  a  woman's  apron, 
and  tangled  in  that  a  child's  toy — a  little  railway  car. 
This  last  happened  in  the  Sound  off  Nantucket. 

Captain  Titcomb  carefully  disentangled  the  odd 
find  from  the  line. 

"Humph!"  he  mused,  balancing  the  battered  play- 
thing in  his  hand.  "Somebody's  wife  and  baby  was 
aboard  the  vessel  that  those  came  from.  I  don't  re- 


WRECKING  AND  WAL  TZING        1 77 

member  a  wreck  of  that  kind  nigh  here  of  late  years. 
But  the  tide  carries  things  a  long  ways,  and  these 
might  have  been  rolled  along  the  bottom  for  miles,  or 
they  might  have  been  carried  here  on  a  piece  of  drift. 
And  then  again,  it  might  be  one  of  those  wrecks  you 
never  hear  off:  black  night,  gale  blowin',  snow  so 
thick  you  can  scarcely  see  the  jibboom,  and  there's  a 
smash  and  a  tramp  steamer  backs  off  with  her  nose 
busted,  not  knowin'  what  she  hit.  And  then  in  a  little 
while  there's  a  piece  in  the  paper  sayin'  that  the 
schooner  So  and  So  is  missin' ;  ain't  been  heard  of  for 
two  or  three  weeks;  it's  feared  she  must  have  foun- 
dered in  the  big  gale  of  January  tenth.  Skipper  had 
his  wife  and  children  with  him,  and  so  forth.  Brad, 
God  moves  in  a  curious  way  His  wonders  to  perform, 
don't  He?  Maybe  it's  jest  as  well  you  and  me  don't 
know  the  real  story  of  these  things.  Sometimes  I 
think  there  ought  to  be  a  law  against  sailors  gittin' 
married." 

They  had  some  long  talks  together  concerning 
their  new  venture,  which,  up  to  date,  although  they 
had  made  some  money,  had  not  given  them  the  oppor- 
tunity for  a  "big  job"  that  they  hoped  for. 

"Brad,"  observed  the  Captain,  as  they  were  walk- 
ing up  from  the  wharf  one  evening,  "are  you  gittin' 
discouraged?" 

"No,  not  yet.  I  didn't  expect  anything  different 
this  first  summer." 

"Well,  I  jest  asked.  You  see,  there's  a  barrel  of 
folks  in  this  town  who  are  sayin'  that  I'm  a  fool  to 
think  that  I  can  make  money  out  of  a  trade  that  other 


1 7  8  PAR  TNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

folks  have  barely  kept  body  and  soul  together  in. 
And  they're  sayin',  too,  that  you're  a  bigger  fool  for 
goin'  in  with  me.  I  s'pose  you've  heard  that  as  much 
as  once  from  some  of  these  kind  souls,  haven't  you?" 

Bradley  laughed.  "Well,"  he  answered,  "I  listen- 
ed to  a  long  sermon  from  that  text  the  other  night  at 
the  postoffice." 

"Humph !  Henry  Simmons  occupied  the  pulpit  in 
response  to  a  unanimous  call  from  himself,  I  s'pose?" 

"How  did  you  know?" 

"Oh!  I  jest  put  two  and  two  together,  like  the 
woman  that  made  some  stockin's  for  herself  out  of  a 
couple  of  pair  that  belonged  to  her  little  girl.  I  saw 
Henry  headin'  over  in  your  direction  that  night,  and 
I  know  his  advice  pumps  are  always  workin'.  Henry's 
what  you  might  call  a  quitter.  The  only  time  he  ever 
stuck  to  anything  was  when  he  set  down  on  the  fly 
paper.  He  was  a  sailor  for  three  v'yages  and  then 
gave  it  up  'cause  he  hadn't  been  made  skipper.  Then 
he  raised  hens,  but  got  discouraged  'cause  the  roosters 
wouldn't  lay — some  such  reason,  anyhow.  He's  done 
a  little  of  'most  everything  sence,  but  he's  given  'em 
up  one  after  the  other;  the  only  trade  he  ain't  peeked 
in  at  is  the  one  he  was  cut  out  for — that's  roostin'  on 
top  of  the  church  steeple  for  a  weather  vane.  Conse- 
quently he  knows  from  experience  that  it's  time  to 
give  up  afore  you  begin.  He  always  said  'twas  a 
crazy  thing  to  do,  this  wreckin',  didn't  he?" 

"Always." 

"Well,  when  I  first  made  the  deal  for  the  Lizzie 
with  Caleb,  Simmons  come  'round  to  me,  havin'  heard 


WRECKING  AND  WAL  TZING        179 

of  it,  and  breathed  into  my  ear,  in  confidence,  that 
he'd  been  thinkin'  of  doin'  the  same  thing  himself; 
knew  for  sure  that  there  was  money  in  it." 

"You  don't  mean  it?" 

"If  I  didn't  I  wouldn't  say  it.  And  Henry's  not 
the  only  one — though  he's  the  prize-winner  in  his  par- 
tic'lar  class.  There's  lots  of  folks  in  Orham  that 
think  because  a  thing's  been  done  afore  by  somebody 
else,  who  didn't  know  how  to  do  it,  that  another  man 
who  tries  it  is  a  fool.  A  pullet  can  lay  eggs,  but  she 
can't  sing  for  a  cent,  whereas  a  canary  bird  makes  a 
pretty  good  shy  at  it.  I  went  into  the  wreckin'  busi- 
ness with  my  eyes  open,  and  I  knew  'twould  be  hard 
sleddin'  first  along.  But  I  tried  to  make  that  clear  to 
you,  didn't  I?" 

"Look  here,  Cap'n  Ez,  if  you  think  I'm  afraid  be- 
cause we  haven't  struck  on  yet,  then " 

"I  ain't  afraid  of  you,  Brad.  I  jest  wanted  to 
boost  up  my  own  spunk  a  little,  I  guess.  Give  you 
and  me  a  year  or  so  to  git  our  nets  out,  so  to  speak, 
and  a  grain  or  two  of  luck  for  seas'nin',  and  we'll 
make  this  village  man  the  yards  when  we  come  into 
port;  see  if  we  don't.  What  do  the  old  maids  say?" 

"Oh !  they  believe  I'm  going  to  get  rich,  of  course." 

"Of  course.  Well,  maybe  they  ain't  any  further 
out  in  their  reck'nin'  one  way  than  Simmons  and  the 
rest  are  the  other.  What  does  that  little  Baker  girl 
have  to  say  about  it?" 

Bradley  looked  at  his  friend  in  surprise.  "What?" 
he  asked. 

"Yes,"  said  the  Captain. 


i8o  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

"Oh !  well,  she  didn't  quite  like  it  at  first,  but  the 
more  we  talk  about  it  together  the  better  the  plan 
seems  to  her." 

"I  presume  likely  you  and  she  talk  about  it  a  good 
deal?"  There  wasn't  the  slightest  flavor  of  sarcasm 
apparent  in  this  question,  so  Bradley  admitted  that  he 
and  Gus  did  have  a  good  many  talks  on  the  subject. 

And  this  statement  wasn't  an  exaggeration.  It  had 
become  a  regular  thing  for  the  junior  partner  in  the 
anchor-dragging  concern  to  drop  in  at  the  Baker 
homestead  of  an  evening  after  supper  was  over  and 
discuss  happenings  and  plans  with  Gus.  The  feeling 
that  the  girl  was  not  so  wholly  at  one  with  him  in  his 
hopes  and  ambitions  as  she  used  to  be  had  galled 
Bradley.  He  resented  her  criticisms  of  the  new  ven- 
ture on  the  evening  when  he  first  told  her  of  it.  Five 
years  before,  he  knew,  she  would  have  thought  it 
"splendid"  simply  because  he  thought  so.  He  had 
come  home  expecting  to  find  her  unchanged — forget- 
ting how  much  he  had  changed,  himself — and  now  he 
determined  that  he  would  compel  her  to  believe  in  him 
and  his  work.  So  he  called  evening  after  evening, 
and,  in  a  measure,  succeeded  in  his  object;  that  is,  Gus 
became  more  and  more  interested  and  willing  to  listen 
while  he  explained  his  and  the  Captain's  ideas,  and 
what  they  might  develop  into.  But  she  no  longer  said 
yes  merely  because  he  said  it.  She  also  had,  and 
Bradley  recognized  it,  a  subtle  way  of  changing  the 
subject  to  one  of  her  own  choosing  when  she  wished 
to  do  so,  and  she  could  tease  him  or  please  him  in  spite 
of  himself.  But  these  new  features  of  her  character 


WRECKING  AND  WAL  TZING        1 8 1 

were  rather  fascinating  than  otherwise,  so  he  came  to 
think.  She  was  decidedly  independent  and  had  a 
very  original  way  of  looking  at  things.  They 
agreed  on  some  matters  and  agreed  to  disagree  on 
others. 

Dancing  was  one  of  the  subjects  on  which  they 
didn't  agree.  Bradley  considered  dancing  nonsensical 
and  a  waste  of  time.  Gus,  on  the  other  hand,  was 
very  fond  of  it. 

"I'd  rather  saw  wood  myself,"  declared  the  former 
one  evening.  "There'd  be  about  as  much  work  in  it, 
and  considerably  more  fun.  If  you  want  to  see  how 
ridiculous  people  look  when  they  dance,  put  your  fin- 
gers in  your  ears  so  as  to  shut  out  the  music,  and  then 
watch  'em." 

"Yes,"  replied  Gus,  "but  there's  no  reason  why  you 
should  put  your  fingers  in  your  ears.  Brad,  for  good- 
ness' sake,  don't  be  an  old  man  before  you've  hardly 
begun  to  be  a  young  one !  That's  my  one  fear  for 
you — that  you'll  grow  to  be  as  sober  as  an  old  cow, 
and  as  sour  as — as — well,  as  those  apple  puffs  I  made 
yesterday  and  forgot  to  put  the  sugar  into.  You  want 
to  sugar  your  work  with  a  little  fun." 

"I  like  fun.  I  can  enjoy  a  good  play  at  the  theatre, 
though  it's  mighty  seldom  I  get  the  chance,  and  I'd 
rather  play  baseball  than  eat,  even  now." 

"Well,  the  only  plays  that  come  to  Orham  are 
'Ten  Nights  in  a  Barroom,'  or  'Uncle  Tom,'  and  I'm 
afraid  I'm  too  old  to  play  baseball  without  causing  a 
sensation;  not  that  I  wouldn't  like  to,"  she  added, 
mischievously.  "But,  Brad,  I  do  like  dancing,  and 


1 82  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

there  are  dances  here  once  in  a  while,  such  as  they  are, 
and — well,  I  wish  you  danced." 

"I  suppose  I  could  manage  to  navigate  through  a 
quadrille  without  wrecking  more  than  half  the  set, 
but  a  waltz  would  have  me  out  of  soundings  in  no 


time." 


"Will  you  try  to  learn  if  I  teach  you?" 

"Think  'twill  pay  for  the  wear  and  tear  on  your 
nerves — and  the  furniture?" 

"I'll  risk  the  nerves,  and  we  need  some  new  furni- 
ture, anyway.  "Come ;  we'll  begin  now.  I'll  hum  the 
tune,  and  you  can  imagine  that  Bennie  D.'s  three-piece 
orchestra  is  playing  'Annie  Rooney,'  with  their  own 
variations,  and  that  you're  waltzing  with — well,  with 
Georgiana  Bailey." 

"Great  Scott!  let's  imagine  something  pleasant  to 
begin  on.  All  right ;  here  goes !  Get  out  of  the  chan- 
nel, Winfield." 

That  first  lesson  was  certainly  fun;  even  Bradley 
admitted  that,  although  he  insisted  that  his  perspiring 
condition  was  proof  positive  of  the  work  there  was  in 
dancing.  They  laughed  so  hard  and  made  so  much 
noise,  assisted  by  the  energetic  Winfield,  that  old 
Mrs.  Baker  came  downstairs,  wrapped  in  a  blanket, 
to  put  her  head  in  at  the  sitting-room  door  and  ask  if 
the  house  was  afire.  But  Gus  said  that  her  partner 
had  done  well  for  a  beginner. 

The  "Baker  Private  Dancing  Academy,"  as  Gus 
called  it,  held  frequent  sessions  during  the  next  fort- 
night. It  was  Bradley's  private  belief  that  he  should 
never  be  a  good  waltzer,  and  he  was  perfectly  certain 


WRECKING  AND  WAL  TZING        1 83 

that  the  lack  of  that  accomplishment  wasn't  going  to 
worry  him,  but  he  stuck  to  the  "lessons,"  because 
they  pleased  Gus,  and  because  he  had  said  he 
would. 

One  evening  toward  the  end  of  the  month  Gus  said 
to  him:  "Brad,  if  you  were  I,  would  you  go  to  the 
Decoration  Day  Ball?" 

She  was,  apparently,  looking  as  she  spoke  at  the 
front  page  of  the  Cape  Cod  Item,  which  lay  on  the 
table,  and  she  did  not  turn  her  head.  Bradley  was 
puzzled. 

"What  did  you  say?"  he  asked. 

"If  you  were  I  would  you  go  to  the  ball  on  the 
evening  of  Decoration  Day  at  the  Town  Hall  ?  IVc 
had  two  invitations." 

"Humph !"  The  answer  was  somewhat  hesitating. 
"I  suppose  I  should  do  what  I  wanted  to.  It  would 
be  too  bad  to  disappoint  so  many  when  you're  so 
greatly  in  demand." 

"And  I  think  that  was  rather  spiteful.  Are  you 
going  to  the  ball?" 

"To  tell  you  the  truth  I  didn't  know  there  was 
going  to  be  one.  I've  been  so  busy." 

"I    supposed   you    didn't    know.     Otherwise,  of 


course " 


"I  should  have  invited  my  dancing  teacher  to  go 
with  me.  Gus,  would  you  have  liked  it  if  I  had  in- 
vited you  ?" 

"I  should." 

"Well,  I  wish  I  had  then."  ] 

"Why  don't  you  now?" 


1 84  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

"Isn't  it  too  late?  Those  other  invitations,  you 
know." 

"I  haven't  answered  them  yet." 

"Well,  then,  Miss  Baker,  may  I  have  the  pleasure 
of  escorting  you  to  the  grand  fandango  to  be  held  in 
the  Orham  Crystal  Palace,  under  the  supervision  of 
His  Royal  Swelledness,  Mr.  Solomon  Bangs?" 

"You  may,  sir.  Oh,  Brad !  of  course  I'd  rather  go 
with  you,  because " 

"Because  what?" 

"Because  I  want  to  see  how  my  pupil  looks  dancing 
with  somebody  else." 

Miss  Prissy  and  her  sister  had  been  brought  up  to 
consider  dancing  as  one  of  the  baits  thrown  out  by  the 
Evil  One  to  lure  young  people  to  destruction.  So, 
when  Bradley  announced  his  intention  of  going  to  the 
ball,  Miss  Tempy  was  just  a  little  troubled. 

"You  don't  s'pose  he's  gittin' — well,  fast,  do  you, 
Prissy?"  she  asked. 

"Land,  no !"  was  the  decided  answer.  "If  he  don't 
do  anything  wickeder  than  to  hop  'round  the  Town 
Hall  to  music,  I  guess  he'll  be  safe." 

"But  father  never  let  us  dance  when  we  were 
girls." 

"I  know  it,  but  folks  look  at  those  things  different 
nowadays.  I  wish  you'd  starch  and  iron  that  white 
necktie  of  his,  Tempy.  We  want  him  to  look  as  good 
as  the  next  one,  bein'  he's  an  Allen." 

So  Miss  Tempy  remembered  that  Lord  Eric  and 
all  the  rest  of  her  book  heroes  danced,  and  she  starch- 
ed and  ironed  the  tie  till  it  was  a  spotless,  crackling 


WRECKING  AND  WAL  TZING        1 8  5 

band.  And  when  Bradley  came  downstairs  on  the 
evening  of  Memorial  Day,  dressed  in  his  new  black 
suit,  she  was  so  proud  of  him  that  she  fairly  bubbled 
over. 

"You  do  look  handsome/*  she  exclaimed.  "You're 
more  like  father  every  day.     Here,  let  me  fix  your' 
handkerchief    so's  'twill    show  at  the  top  of    your 
pocket.    There,  now  ain't  he  splendid,  Prissy?" 

"Handsome  is  that  handsome  does,"  was  the  prac- 
tical answer.  "Be  a  good  boy,  Brad,  and  don't  do 
anything  we  wouldn't  like." 

Gus  was  prettier  than  ever  that  night.  She  was 
dressed  simply  in  white,  but  when  she  came  out  of  the 
dressing-room  at  the  hall  and  took  his  arm,  Bradley 
noticed  that  the  eyes  of  half  a  dozen  young  men  fol- 
lowed her,  and  that  they  whispered  to  each  other. 

Mr.  Solomon  Bangs  was  floor-master,  and  he  came 
bustling  up  to  them. 

"We're  jest  goin'  to  start  the  Grand  March,"  he 
informed  them.  "Take  your  partners  and  git  right  in 
line,  please.  Augusty,  may  I  see  your  order?  Thank 
you.  I'll  take  the  Portland  Fancy,  if  you're  willin'. 
Yes,  yes,  Obed!  I'm  comin' !  Land  of  goodness! 
seems  's  if  I  couldn't  git  a  minute's  peace.  I  don't 
know  what  they'd  do  if  I  wasn't  here." 

He  hurried  away  to  lead  the  march  with  Georgiana 
Bailey,  and  Bradley  took  his  partner's  "order"  and 
wrote  his  initials  against  two  quadrilles,  the  "Virginia 
Reel"  and  one  waltz.  "Round  dances"  were  few,  for 
most  of  the  dancers  were  middle-aged  married  peo- 
ple, who  had  danced  reels  and  contra-dances  when 


1 8  6  PAR  TNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

they  were  young,  and  didn't  intend  to  learn  new  steps 
at  their  time  of  life. 

"Bennie  D.,"  his  hair  pasted  artistically  down  on 
his  forehead  with  a  "spit  curl"  over  each  temple, 
stepped  to  the  centre  of  the  platform,  tucked  a  hand- 
kerchief under  his  chin,  set  his  violin  against  it,  flour- 
ished his  bow,  patted  his  feet  and  swung  into  the  tune 
for  the  Grand  March,  with  the  piano  and  'cello  limp- 
ing behind  him. 

Mr.  Bangs,  his  chest  well  out,  his  floor-master's 
badge  very  much  in  evidence  and  his  importance  even 
more  so,  gave  his  arm  to  Miss  Bailey,  got  into  step — 
after  two  or  three  false  starts — and  led  off,  while 
couple  after  couple  followed  him.  Up  and  down  the 
hall  they  paraded,  going  through  one  evolution  after 
the  other.  Captain  Jabez  Bailey,  who  "didn't  dance 
none  to  speak  of,"  but  was  there  because  his  wife  and 
daughter  had  ordered  him  to  be,  distinguished  him- 
self by  tripping  at  the  first  turn  and  carrying  his  better 
half  down  with  him.  It  was  an  emphatic  tumble,  for 
Mrs.  Bailey  was  what  her  husband  called  "pretty  sort 
of  fleshy,"  and  the  chimneys  in  the  chandeliers  rattled 
when  she  struck  the  floor.  Georgiana,  from  the  head 
of  the  line,  glared  at  her  unfortunate  parent,  and, 
during  the  rest  of  the  march,  poor  Captain  Jabez 
plodded  on  in  nervous  agony,  while  his  wife  poured 
into  his  ear  her  opinion  of  his  "makin'  such  a  show  of 
'em  and  mortifyin'  her  'most  to  death." 

Gus'  "order"  was  filled  in  a  few  minutes  after  the 
first  number  was  over;  there  were  more  applicants 
than  dances.  Bradley  danced  a  quadrille  with  Clara 


WRECKING  AND  WAL  TZING        1 87 

Hopkins,  who  was  pretty  and  jolly,  and  he  enjoyed  it 
thoroughly.  He  labored  through  a  contra-dance  with 
Georgiana  and  didn't  enjoy  it  as  much,  although  that 
effervescent  young  lady  purred  that  she  had  had  a 
"perfectly  lovely  time,"  and  he  was  "lookin'  so  well," 
and  why  didn't  he  call  at  the  house. 

Miss  Bailey's  blue  silk  gown  had  an  imposing,  and 
very  troublesome,  train  and  she  smelt  like  a  per- 
fumer's shop. 

During  one  of  the  infrequent  "round  dances," 
Bradley  wandered  to  the  smoking-room  at  the  head 
of  the  stairs.  "Hart"  Sears  and  "Snuppy"  Black 
were  there,  together  with  some  fellows  from  Harniss 
and  Ostable.  They  were  discussing,  with  great  relish, 
the  various  young  women  present,  and  the  conversa- 
tion might  have  been  interesting  if  one  cared  for  that 
sort  of  thing.  But  Bradley  didn't,  and  he  was  about 
to  return  to  the  ball  room,  when,  to  his  great  sur- 
prise, Captain  Titcomb  came  up  the  stairs.  He  had  a 
dripping  umbrella  in  his  hand. 

"Why,  hello !"  exclaimed  Bradley.  "I  didn't  know 
you  were  coming." 

"Hello,  yourself !"  retorted  the  Captain.  "I  didn't 
know  you  was  comin'  either,  so  we're  square  on  that 
hitch.  It's  blowin'  up  a  reg'lar  snorter  outside,"  he 
added.  "You'd  think  'twas  the  middle  of  November. 
Bring  an  umbrella?  That's  good;  you'll  need  it. 
Hold  on  a  second  till  I  check  my  duds." 

When  he  returned  from  the  coat  window  they 
stood  in  the  doorway  looking  at  the  dancers. 

"Sol.  Bangs  talked  me  into  buyin'  a  ticket,"  re- 


1 8  8  PAR  TNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

marked  the  Captain,  uand  'twas  kind  of  dull  at  the 
boardin'-house,  so  I  thought  I'd  run  up  for  a  spell. 
Who's  here?  Gusty  Baker  looks  nice,  don't  she? 
I  s'pose  you  was  convoy  to  that  craft,  hey?" 

Bradley  reddened  and  admitted  that  he  had  acted 
in  that  capacity. 

"Georgiana's  gayer'n  a  tin  peddler's  cart,  ain't 
she?"  continued  his  partner.  "Cap'n  Jabe's  the  only 
moultin'  pullet  in  that  coop." 

He  broke  off  suddenly  and  was  silent  for  a  min- 
ute or  more.  Bradley  asked  him  what  the  matter 
was. 

"Oh,  nothin'I"  was  the  hasty  reply.  "Quite  a 
crowd  here  to-night.  Who's  the  little  clipper  in  the 
white  with  blue  pennants  in  her  f ore-riggin' ?  The 
one  dancin'  with  Jonadab  Wixon's  sister's  boy?" 

"That's  Clara  Hopkins.  She's  grown  to  be  a  pretty 
girl,  hasn't  she?" 

"Humph!  You  don't  say!  Jim  Hopkins'  girl.  I 
wouldn't  have  known  her."  And  the  Captain  sub- 
sided once  more. 

A  little  while  after  that,  as  Bradley  was  dancing 
his  "Virginia  Reel"  with  Gus,  he  noticed  a  disturb- 
ance among  the  crowd  of  watchers  at  the  door.  He 
>  was  in  the  middle  of  the  line  at  the  time,  and  "Snup- 
py"  Black  stood  next  to  him. 

"Hello!"  exclaimed  "Snuppy."  "Why,  it  can't 
be!  By  thunder,  it  is!  Sam  Hammond's  come.  I 
didn't  know  he  was  expected." 

Hammond  it  was,  and  in  all  the  glory  of  city 
clothes  and  unlimited  self-confidence.  When  the  reel 


WRECKING  AND  WAL  TZING        1 89 

was  over,  he  came  across  the  floor  to  where  Gus  and 
Bradley  were  standing. 

"How  d'ye  do,  Gus?"  he  said,  extending  his  hand; 
"I'm  down  for  a  few  days.  Got  a  vacation  that  I 
wasn't  looking  for.  Came  on  to-night's  train  and 
thought  I'd  run  up  here  for  a  little  while,  soon  as  I 
could  get  away  from  the  home  folks.  Let  me  see 
your  order.  Hello,  Brad!  How  are  you?" 

He  was  well-dressed,  still  in  the  rather  conspicuous 
way,  and  he  had  an  easy,  masterful  air  about  him 
that  none  of  the  country  fellows  had,  though  they  all 
envied  it.  And  he  was  good-looking;  that  couldn't 
be  denied. 

"My  order  is  filled,"  said  Gus,  showing  him  the 
card. 

"Never  mind;  somebody '11  have  to  give  up;  that's 
all.  Brad,  will  you  give  me  this  waltz  of  yours  ?  It's 
the  next  number." 

"Can't  spare  it,"  replied  Bradley,  shortly. 

"Then  I'll  have  Hart's  schottische.  I'll  make  it  all 
right  with  him."  And  he  pencilled  his  own  initials 
over  those  of  Sears.  Gus  didn't  seriously  object. 

"He's  a  fine  dancer,"  she  said,  as  she  and  Bradley 
rose  for  the  waltz.  "I  shall  enjoy  that  schottische, 
and  I  should  have  had  a  horrid  time  with  Hartwell 
Sears.  Now,  Brad,  let's  see  how  you  remember  your 
lessons." 

The  last  dance  was  the  lanciers,  but  as  "Bennie 
D."  arose  to  "call  off,"  he  announced  that  there  would 
be,  by  special  request,  an  "extra" — a  waltz.  Bradley 
had  seen  Hammond  talking  with  the  prompter  and 


190  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

with  Mr.  Bangs,  and  he  knew  whose  the  "special  re- 
quest*' was.  Under  other  circumstances  he  wouldn't 
have  cared  so  much  for  that  waltz,  but  now  he  want- 
ed it  very  much  indeed. 

He  walked  over  to  where  Gus,  flushed  and  laugh- 
ing, stood  talking  with  Black,  her  partner  in  the  lan- 
ciers.  Just  as  he  reached  her  side  Sam  came  hurrying 
up  and  pushed  in  front  of  him  without  ceremony. 

"Gus,"  said  Hammond,  "I  made  Ben  give  us  this 
waltz  on  purpose  so  that  we  might  have  it  together. 
You  haven't  been  half  generous  to  me  to-night,  and 
now  I'm  after  my  pay.  Come !" 

He  offered  his  arm,  and  for  a  moment  the  girl 
seemed  about  to  take  it.  Then  she  looked  at  Brad- 
ley, who,  disappointed  and  chagrined,  stood  silent  in 
the  background. 

"Thank  you  very  much,  Sam,"  she  said;  "but  this 
waltz  belongs  to  Bradley.  Come,  Brad,  the  music  is 
beginning." 

If  any  one  had  told  Bradley  previously  that  he 
would  thoroughly  enjoy  a  waltz,  he  would  have 
laughed.  But  he  enjoyed  every  moment  of  this  one. 
He  saw  Sam's  scowl  as  Gus  stepped  past  him,  saw  the 
smile  on  the  faces  of  Black  and  the  other  bystanders, 
and  then  they  whirled  away.  Round  and  round  and 
round.  "Bennie  D.'s"  music  wasn't  the  best  in  the 
world,  but  to  Bradley  just  then  no  grand  opera  or- 
chestra could  have  played  more  sweetly.  His  feet 
seemed  almost  as  light  as  his  partner's,  and  they  kept 
perfect  time. 

It  was  over  all  too  soon. 


WRECKING  AND  WAL  TZING        1 9 1 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  Gus,  as  the  music  ceased;  "that 
was  splendid!  Brad,  don't  ever  say  again  that  you 
can't  waltz." 

Captain  Titcomb,  with  Clara  Hopkins  on  his  arm, 
passed  them,  scouring  his  red  face  with  a  handker- 
chief. 

"Whew!"  he  panted,  "I  must  be  gittin'  fat  and 
lazy.  Didn't  use  to  pump  me  out  this  way  to  dance." 

Bradley  and  Gus  walked  home  through  a  storm 
that,  as  the  Captain  had  said,  was  much  more  like  a 
November  gale  than  the  usual  summer  blow.  The 
tops  of  the  trees  threshed  and  banged  about  in  the 
heavy  gusts  and  the  rain  came  against  the  umbrella 
top  like  water  from  a  hose.  They  were  pretty  wet 
when  they  reached  the  door. 

"I've  had  ever  so  nice  a  time,  Brad,"  said  Gus. 
"Thank  you  very  much  for  taking  me." 

"You're  welcome.  I've  had  a  good  time,  too.  I 
want  to  thank  you  for  giving  me  that  last  waltz.  I 
know  it  meant  giving  up  a  good  dancer  for  a  poor 
one,  and  'twas  kind  of  you  to  do  it." 

"Oh!  you  earned  that  by  trying  so  hard  to  learn. 
Good  night." 

There  was  a  kettle  of  "pepper  tea"  on  the  back  of 
:he  stove  in  the  kitchen,  and  on  the  table  Bradley 
found  a  note  from  Miss  Tempy,  saying  that  he  must 
be  sure  and  drink  two  whole  cups  of  the  tea  and  rub 
his  chest  with  Blaisdell's  Emulsion  before  he  went  to 
bed,  so  as  not  to  catch  cold. 

He  did  drink  some  of  the  tea,  but  we  fear  the 
Emulsion  was  forgotten  entirely.  Bradley's  brain 


i92  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

was  filled  with  thoughts  of  that  waltz,  of  Sam's  dis- 
comfiture and  of  his  own  triumph.  Also  there  were 
other  and  new  thoughts  that  kept  him  awake  for  some 
time.  They  were  of  the  future,  but  the  wrecking 
business  had  little  part  in  them. 

And  outside  the  wind  blew  and  the  rain  poured. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  LUMBER  SCHOONER. 

BREAKFAST  next  morning  was  hardly  begun 
when  "Blount's  boy" — his  name  was  Ulysses 
Simpson  Grant  Blount,  but  no  one  but  his 
parents  ever  called  him  by  it — came  to  the  dining- 
room  door  with  a  note  for  Bradley.     It  was  from 
Captain  Titcomb,  and  read  as  follows : 

"DEAR  BRAD: 

"There's  a  three-master,  loaded  with  lumber,  piled 
up  on  the  Boneyard.  Come  on  down  quick.  Looks 
as  if  here  was  the  chance  the  Titcomb-Nickerson 
Wrecking  Syndicate  had  been  praying  for. 

"Yours  truly, 

"E.  D.  TITCOMB.' 

193 


194  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

The  junior  partner  in  the  "Syndicate"  let  Miss 
Prissy's  clam  fritters  go  by  default  and  hurried  down 
to  the  Traveler's  Rest,  where  he  found  the  Captain 
waiting  for  him.  A  few  hours  later  the  officers 
and  crew  of  the  Lizzie  were  gazing  over  that 
vessel's  rail  at  the  tumbling  froth  that  covered 
the  Boneyard  shoal  and  at  the  hapless  lumber 
schooner  trembling  in  its  midst,  a  dismal,  lonesome 
right 

She  had  struck  almost  bow  on,  but  the  strong  tide 
had  swung  her  stern  over  until  she  lay  broadside  to 
the  shoal.  She  had  heeled  but  little  and  her  deck  load 
of  pine  boards  was,  for  the  most  part,  still  lashed  in 
place.  The  main  and  mizzen  masts  were  gone,  but 
the  lower  part  of  her  foremast  still  stood,  and  the 
great  waves,  striking  against  her  stern,  sent  the  light 
spray  flying  lengthwise  almost  as  high  as  its  top.  The 
broken  cordage  streamed  out  in  the  wind,  and  a 
swinging  block  creaked  and  whined.  On  the  rail  by 
the  after  house  they  could  read  her  name ;  she  was  the 
Ruth  Ginn,  of  Bangor. 

"The  P'int  life  savin*  crew  got  the  men  about  one 
o'clock  this  mornin',"  remarked  Captain  Titcomb. 
"Skipper  tried  to  anchor  to  ride  out  the  gale,  then  got 
scared  and  tried  to  make  an  offin',  got  her  into  irons 
and  the  tide  did  the  rest.  Her  masts  went  jest  after 
they  took  off  the  men.  What  do  you  think  of  her? 
Total  loss,  ain't  she  ?" 

Bradley  hesitated.  "Well,"  he  said,  "I  should  say 
she  was,  so  far  as  being  any  use  as  a  schooner  is  con- 
cerned. That  lumber,  though,  is  a  different  matter; 


THE  LUMBER  SCHOONER          195 

the  weather  would  have  a  good  deal  to  do  with  that, 
I  should  say." 

uThe  weather's  goin'  to  clear,  if  I'm  any  jedge," 
observed  his  companion.  "What  do  you  say,  Bar- 
ney?" 

"Looks  like  fairin'  off  to  me,"  replied  Mr.  Small. 
"Wind's  cantin'  round  to  the  west'ard.  However,  I 
ain't  no  weather  prophet.  You  want  to  ask  Peleg 
Myrick  if  you're  after  weather  news;  he  seems  to 
have  a  special  tip  from  heaven  on  gales  and 
calms." 

"That's  so,"  mused  the  skipper.  "Peleg  does  seem 
to  have  a  sort  of  connection  that  way.  Maybe  the 
angels  keep  him  interested  in  weather  so's  they  won't 
have  to  listen  to  him  pumpin'  the  concertina  all  the 
time.  That  and  Skeezicks'  howlin'  is  enough  to  make 
a  ghost  grit  its  teeth.  I  cal'late  he's  at  the  P'int  by 
this  time,  and  we'll  hunt  him  up  pretty  soon  and  git  a 
prophecy  from  headquarters.  But,  anyhow,"  he  add- 
ed, "I  agree  with  you,  Brad,  that  the  schooner's  gone 
to  pot.  The  lumber  might  be  saved.  I'll  go  fur- 
ther'n  that,  I'll  say  that  we  could  save  a  good-sized 
chunk  of  it,  wind  and  weather  permittin',  if  we  got 
the  chance.  And  I'm  goin'  to  work  mighty  hard  to 
git  the  chance.  Let's  run  up  into  the  cove  and  go 
ashore." 

The  Lizzie  sailed  away  from  the  wreck  that,  with 
one  screaming  seagull  balancing  himself  on  the 
broken  foremast,  looked  more  sad  and  lonely  than 
ever,  and  anchored  in  the  little  harbor  in  the  lee  of 
the  Point.  Two  or  three  catboats  were  moored  there, 


196  PAR  TNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

and  among  them  was  one  that  the  Captain  recog- 
nized. 

"Hello!"  he  exclaimed.  "There's  Obed  Nicker- 
son's  boat.  I  guess  that  settles  it;  some  part  of  her's 
insured,  anyway." 

They  walked  through  the  soft  white  sand  and 
coarse  beach  grass  up  to  the  life-saving  station.  The 
lookout,  in  the  observatory  on  the  roof,  rapped  on 
the  window  of  his  cage  and  waved  a  hand  to  them  as 
they  reached  the  plank  walk  leading  to  the  door. 

Inside,  seated  around  the  table  of  the  living  room, 
they  found  Captain  Knowles,  commander  of  the  sta- 
tion ;  Obed  Nickerson,  the  Orham  agent  of  the  under- 
writers; the  skipper  of  the  Ruth  Glnn  and  two  or 
three  others.  The  skipper,  a  sunburned,  gray-haired 
man,  with  a  worried  look  on  his  lean  face,  was  telling 
for  Mr.  Nickerson's  benefit  the  story  of  how  his  ves- 
sel came  to  be  in  her  hopeless  plight.  To  a  landsman 
it  would  have  been  an  interesting  yarn,  but  the  present 
company  had  heard  too  many  similar  experiences  to 
find  anything  novel  in  it. 

"So  you  figure  her  a  total  loss,  do  you,  Cap'n?" 
asked  Mr.  Nickerson,  making  a  few  notes  in  his  mem- 
orandum book. 

"Well,  there  she  is!  You  can  see  for  yourself," 
was  the  answer.  "Her  sticks  gone,  and  hard  and  fast 
on  the  Boneyard — if  she  ain't  a  total  loss,  I  don't 
know  what  you  call  her." 

"Insured,  is  she,  Obed?"  asked  Captain  Titcomb. 

"Cargo  is;  schooner  ain't,"  replied  the  under- 
writers' agent. 


THE  LUMBER  SCHOONER          197 

Captain  Ezra  signalled  to  Bradley,  and  they  went 
out  on  the  porch. 

"Brad,"  whispered  the  Captain,  "they  can't  call 
her  anything  but  a  total  loss.  The  underwriters'!! 
pay  the  insurance  on  that  lumber  and  then  dicker  with 
somebody  to  save  what  they  can  of  it.  You  and  me 
want  to  be  that  somebody.  Hello !  here's  Peleg !" 

The  versatile  Mr.  Myrick  had  tramped  over  from 
his  hermitage,  and  now,  with  Skeezicks  shivering  at 
his  heels,  was  deep  in  conversation  with  Barney  Small. 

"Peleg  says  we're  goin'  to  have  clear  weather  for 
quite  a  spell,"  remarked  Barney.  "Let's  see;  when 
did  you  say  you  had  the  next  storm  scheduled, 
Peleg?" 

"Wall,"  drawled  the  weather  prophet,  looking  be- 
comingly important;  "nigh's  I  can  figger,  Cap'n  Ez, 
she'll  fair  off  by  afternoon  and  stay  clear  for  more'n 
a  fortni't.  We  ain't  due  to  have  another  reel  genu- 
wine  blow  for  more'n  a  month.  /  knew  last  night's 
gale  was  comin'.  I  told  Cap'n  Knowles  so;  says  I,  *I 
don't  care  what  the  Gov'ment  folks  says,  it's  goin'  to 
blow,'  says  I,  'like  time,  and  them  that's  afloat  wants 
to  stand  by,'  I  says.  Now " 

"That's  right,  Peleg,"  broke  in  the  Captain.  "I'll 
back  you  against  the  Weather  Bureau  eight  days  hi 
the  week  and  twice  on  Sunday.  How's  clams  these 
days?" 

"Clams,"  replied  Mr.  Myrick,  "is  scurcer'n  all  git 
out.  I  don't  know  why  unless  'twas  the  turrible  hard 
winter.  I  was  afraid  of  it  last  fall.  'Course  I  knew 
the  hard  winter  was  comin'  and  I  told  folks  so.  Oh  I 


198  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

that  reminds  me!  What's  this  I  hear  'bout  Sam 
Hammond's  spendin'  more'n  four  dollars  for  cigars 
last  time  he  was  home?  Do  you  cal'late  that's  so?" 

They  left  Barney  to  relieve  Mr.  Myrick's  anxiety 
concerning  the  cigars  and  walked  down  to  the  beach. 
On  the  way  Captain  Titcomb  said :  . 

"Brad,  we've  got  to  git  this  lumber  job.  It's  the  ' 
kind  of  job  we  can  do  with  the  Lizzie,  and,  figgerin' 
on  a  commission  basis,  it'll  give  us  pretty  nigh  money 
and  start  enough  to  warrant  our  havin'  a  new 
schooner  built,  one  with  power  and  strong  enough  to 
handle  the  real  big  things.  Wait  here  by  the  dory 
till  Obed  comes  out;  I'm  layin'  for  him." 

"Cap'n  Ez,  do  you  really  take  any  stock  in  Peleg's 
weather  talk?" 

uWhy,  I  don't  know  but  I  do.  Everybody  along 
this  shore  does.  He  hits  it  right  full  as  often  as  the 
Gov'ment  folks,  and,  in  my  jedgment,  consider'ble 
further  ahead.  I'll  give  in  that  it  sounds  foolish  to 
think  a  bow-legged  sandpeep  with  a  sprained  brain 
like  Peleg's  can  know  about  the  Lord  Almighty's 
gales  and  such,  but  sometimes  I  think  that  about  ha'f 
of  Peleg's  loft  was  to  let,  so's  to  speak,  and  the 
weather  jest  sort  of  moved  in.  Now  most  people 
ain't  got  more'n  a  tenth  of  the  space  in  their  noddles 
to  give  to  that  bus'ness,  and  so  Brother  Myrick  has 
the  advantage  of  'em." 

Bradley  laughed.  Personally  he  believed  little  in 
the  hermit's  value  as  a  prophet,  although  he  knew 
that  the  Captain's  faith  was  shared  by  almost  every- 
body in  Orham. 


THE  LUMBER  SCHOONER          199 

"You  give  up  only  half  of  Peleg's  brain  to  the 
weather,"  he  said.  "What  do  you  think  fills  the  rest 
of  it?" 

"Clams,  other  folks'  business  and  that  everlastin' 
concertina,"  was  the  quick  reply.  "That  ha'f  must  be 
as  lively  as  a  sailor's  dance  hall  and  as  full  of  Bedlam 
as  the  monkey  cage  in  the  circus.  Here  comes  Obed. 
Now,  then!" 

Mr.  Nickerson,  accompanied  by  one  of  the  village 
boys,  was  on  his  way  to  the  catboat,  but  the  Captain 
interfered. 

"What  in  the  nation  are  you  goin'  home  in  that 
clam  shell  for,  Obed?"  he  asked.  "Come  on  aboard 
the  Lizzie  with  us.  Brad  and  Barney  and  I  will  land 
you  at  the  wharf  afore  that  cat  of  yours  is  out  of 
shoal  water.  Let  Dan  there  take  your  boat  home, 
and  you  come  with  us.  I've  got  a  cigar  I  want  you  to 
take  out  some  fire  insurance  on." 

So,  after  some  persuasion,  the  underwriters'  agent 
consented  to  make  his  homeward  trip  in  the  schooner. 
The  cigars  were  lighted,  Barney  Small  took  the  wheel 
and  the  Captain,  Bradley  and  Mr.  Nickerson  made 
themselves  comfortable  in  the  little  cabin.  Then  the 
conversation  was  judiciously  piloted  toward  wrecks, 
and  the  wreck  of  the  Ruth  Ginn  in  particular.  Obed 
admitted  that  the  full  insurance  would  undoubtedly 
be  paid  on  the  cargo,  although,  of  course,  the  official 
"three  man  survey"  must  come  first.  Bradley  asked 
what  would  be  done  after  that. 

"Oh!"  answered  the  agent;  "then  I  guess  I'll  send 
word  to  the  Boston  Salvage  Company  and  make  a 


200  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

deal  with  them  to  git  out  what  they  can  of  the  lum- 
ber." 

"Yes,"  observed  Captain  Titcomb,  uand  they'll 
charge  you  seventy-five  per  cent,  of  the  value.  What's 
the  matter  with  Brad  and  me  doin'  it?" 

"You?    What  with— this  tub?" 

"Yup,  this  tub.  If  you've  got  a  loose  tooth  a 
string  and  a  door'll  snake  it  out  as  quick  as  the  dentist 
will,  and  you  don't  have  to  pay  for  silver-plated 
pinchers  and  a  gilt  name-plate.  Come  now,  tell  you 
what  I'll  do:  Brad  and  me'll  git  that  lumber  out  for 
sixty  per  cent,  on  what  we  save." 

"How  you  goin'  to  do  it?  You  haven't  got  a  tow- 
boat,  nor  even  power  in  your  own  schooner." 

"Don't  need  'em.  You  couldn't  start  that  wreck 
with  a  towboat  without  yankin'  the  bottom  out  of 
her.  The  only  way  to  fetch  her  off  the  shoals  is  with 
anchors  and  cables,  and  you  know  it.  We  can  do 
that  as  well  as  any  Boston  comp'ny  that  ever  was. 
Give  us  a  chance,  Obed.  You  ought  to  encourage 
home  talent,  as  Bill  Samuels  said  to  the  school  teacher 
that  found  fault  with  him  'cause  he  told  his  boy  to 
spell  cat  with  a  K.  What  do  you  say?" 

Obed  had  a  good  deal  to  say,  and  no  decision  was 
reached  that  forenoon.  Next  day  the  survey  was 
made,  and  that  evening  the  Captain  spent  at  the  home 
of  Mr.  Nickerson.  It  was  after  eleven  o'clock  when 
he  returned  to  his  room  at  the  Traveller's  Rest,  where 
Bradley  was  waiting. 

"Well?"  said  Bradley,  anxiously. 

"Well !"  exclaimed  his  partner,  tossing  his  cap  on 


THE  LUMBER  SCHOONER          201 

a  chair  and  wiping  the  perspiration  from  his  hot  fore- 
head; "well,  Brad,  I've  used  up  jaw  power  enough  to 
pretty  nigh  work  that  wreck  off,  but  the  job's  ours  at 
fifty  per  cent,  of  the  value  of  the  lumber  we  save. 
There's  nigh  on  to  six  thousand  dollars'  worth  aboard 
and,  if  Peleg's  forecastin'  works  haven't  got  indiges- 
tion, we  ought  to  clean  up  close  to  every  stick  of  it. 
Brad,  shake!" 

And  they  shook  hands.  The  opportunity  they  had 
been  waiting  for  was  theirs  at  last. 

The  partners  talked  for  another  hour  before  they 
separated.  Three  extra  hands,  at  least — so  the  Cap- 
tain figured — would  be  needed  on  the  Lizzie.  Brad- 
ley was  in  favor  of  hiring  more  than  three,  arguing 
that  every  day  counted,  because  one  severe  storm 
would  break  up  the  stranded  schooner,  and,  there- 
fore, speed  in  accomplishing  the  work  was  the  first 
consideration.  But  Captain  Titcomb  believed  that 
three  was  sufficient. 

"Peleg  says  no  gale  for  a  month  and  I'm  bettin'  on 
that  weather  plant  in  his  skull,"  he  argued.  "And, 
say !  I  b'lieve  I'll  hire  Peleg  himself  for  one.  He's 
a  good  worker,  and  he'll  work  cheap.  I'll  git  Bill 
Taylor  for  another.  He  lives  at  the  P'int  most  of  the 
year,  and  he's  a  wrecker  in  a  small  way  himself. 
You'd  better  go  over  to  Harniss  to-morrer  and  see  if 
you  can't  git  one  of  the  Bearse  boys.  That'll  make 
the  three.  Good  night,  Brad.  Keep  a  stiff  upper  lip. 
We've  got  the  chance;  now  it's  up  to  us  to  win  the 
cup  or  run  her  under — one  or  t'other." 

So  the  next  forenoon  Bradley  took  the  train  to 


202  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

Harniss,  where  he  found  Alvin,  oldest  of  the  Bearse 
"boys,"  a  gray-headed,  leather-faced  youngster  of 
fifty-five,  and  engaged  him  for  the  sum  of  three  dol- 
lars a  day  and  his  keep.  He  was  to  report  on  board 
at  half-past  seven  the  following  morning.  Then, 
having  accomplished  his  share  of  the  hiring,  the 
junior  partner  returned  to  Orham  to  inspect  the  Liz- 
zie with  nervous  care  and  to  listen  to  the  remarks  of 
a  dozen  or  more  disinterested  acquaintances  who, 
having  heard  of  the  contract,  had  come  down  to  the 
wharf  to  prophesy  and  offer  advice. 

The  prophecies  were  mostly  of  the  Jeremiah 
brand.  It  was  the  general  opinion  that  the  wreck- 
ing schooner  was  too  small  for  the  work  and  that 
Captain  Titcomb  "ought  to  have  known  it."  Cap- 
tain Jabez  Bailey  summed  up  professional  opinion  as 
follows : 

"It  'pears  to  me,  Brad,"  he  observed,  "speakin'  as 
man  to  man,  t'lat  you  fellers  have  bit  off  more'n  you 
•can  chaw.  It's  what  you  might  expect  of  Ez  Tit- 
comb,  though.  Nobody  else  would  think  of  buckin' 
.against  the  Boston  Salvage  Company  with  a  two- 
masted  soup  ladle  like  that,  and  with  no  power  in  her. 
All  I  can  say  is  that,  for  your  sake,  Brad,  I  hope 
you'll  make  a  dollar  or  two,  but  I'm  'fraid  that,  as  I 
said  a  minute  ago,  you've  bit  off  more'n  you  can  chaw. 
Speakin'  of  chawin',  Bluey,  lend  me  your  plug,  won't 
you  ?  I  left  mine  to  home." 

After  this  and  similar  applications  of  the  cold 
water  treatment,  it  was  a  relief  to  get  back  to  the  big 
house  on  the  hill  and  to  receive  the  enthusiastic  con- 


THE  LUMBER  SCHOONER          203 

gratulations  of  the  "old  maids."  There  was  no  doubt 
of  success  in  their  minds,  and  when  Miss  Busteed 
called  to  learn  further  particulars  and  to  offer  con- 
dolences, she  got,  as  Miss  Prissy  said  afterwards,  uas 
good  as  she  sent." 

"Of  course,"  concluded  Melissa,  after  repeating, 
with  her  own  embellishments,  all  the  discouraging  re- 
marks of  the  townspeople  concerning  the  lumber  con- 
tract; "of  course,  I  don't  agree  with  everything  that's 
said;  not  by  no  means,  I  don't  But  folks  do  talk 
about  Ez  Titcomb ;  you  know  they  do,  Prissy.  Sarah 
Emma  Gage  was  sayin'  this  very  mornin',  says  she, 
'Melissy,'  says  she,  'I  s'pose  Prissy  and  Tempy  know 
what  they're  about,  but  I'm  free  to  confess  I'm  glad  it 
ain't  my  boy  that's  in  partners  with  Ez  Titcomb,'  says 
she." 

"Humph!"  snapped  Miss  Tempy,  "I  guess  she 
ain't  any  gladder  than  Cap'n  Titcomb  is  on  that  sub- 
ject. If  he  couldn't  git  anybody  better'n  Ben  Gage  I 
cal'late  he'd  shet  up  shop  !" 

"Yes,  I  know,"  went  on  Melissa,  "but  Sarah 
Emma  is  a  great  talker.  'Nother  thing  she  said  that 
was  foolish — perfectly  foolish — and  I  told  her  so. 
She  brought  up  how  Cap'n  Ez  used  to  call  here  at 
your  house  and  how  he  didn't  come  no  more.  Said 
'twas  a  shame.  'But  then,7  she  says,  *  'tain't  any 
more'n  he's  done  to  ha'f  a  dozen  other  women  that 
he's  kept  comp'ny  with.'  " 

Both  the  sisters  reddened  and  Miss  Prissy  exclaim- 
ed, indignantly,  "Sarah  Emma  Gage  better  mind  her 
own  affairs.  She's  the  wust  gossip  in  town — pretty 


204  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

nigh  the  wust,  anyway."    The  last  as  a  delicate  sub- 
stitute for  ''present  company  excepted." 

"Oh!  of  course  I  laffed  at  her  for  sayin'  that!" 
went  on  the  caller.  "I  says  to  her,  'Sarah  Emma,1 
says  I,  'Prissy  and  Tempy  have  lived  single  too  long 
and  are  too  old  to  think  of  gittin'  married  at  their 
time  of  life.  That  would  be  too  ridic'lous!'  I  says." 

Miss  Tempy's  sensitive  lip  trembled  a  little,  but  her 
sister  came  serenely  to  the  rescue. 

"Yes,  we're  gittin'  old,  Melissy,"  she  observed, 
sweetly,  "that's  a  fact.  I  can  remember  when  I  was  a 
little  tot  in  school  and  you  was  wearin'  long  gowns 
and  puttin'  your  hair  up,  how  I  wished  I  was  as  old 
as  you.  And  now  folks  would  hardly  notice  any 
diff'rence  between  us,  fur's  looks  go.  What?  You 
must  be  gonV  Oh,  don't  hurry!  Well,  let  me  git 
your  things.  How  this  bonnet  of  yours  does  wear, 
Melissy !  You've  had  it  much  as  six  seasons,  and  it's 
only  when  you  git  close  to  it  that  it  looks  the  least 
mite  frayed.  Good-by.  Call  again,  won't  you? 
There!"  as  the  owner  of  the  highly  flattered  bonnet 
flounced  down  to  the  gate,  "I  guess  she  can  put  that 
in  her  pipe  and  smoke  it.  Don't  feel  bad,  Tempy. 
Melissy  Busteed's  like  a  dose  of  old-fashioned  medi- 
;  cine;  she  always  leaves  a  bad  taste  behind  her." 
'  Bradley  called  on  Gus  that  evening.  He  had  been 
so  busy  with  Captain  Titcomb,  planning  and  working 
for  the  new  contract,  that  he  had  seen  her  but  once, 
and  then  only  for  a  moment,  since  the  night  of  the 
ball.  But  now,  full  of  hope  and  the  triumph  of  hav- 
ing secured  the  chance  he  had  longed  for,  he  looked 


THE  LUMBER  SCHOONER          205 

forward  to  telling  her  the  good  news  and  receiving 
her  congratulations. 

The  windows  of  the  Baker  "best  parlor"  were 
lighted  up — a  most  unusual  occurrence — and  he 
vaguely  wondered  if  they  had  "company"  and  who 
it  might  be. 

Gus  herself  opened  the  door  in  response  to  his 
knock. 

"Why,  hello  1"  she  said.  "I  wandered  if  you  had 
forgotten  me  entirely,  Mr.  Contractor,  now  that  you 
really  are  a  business  man  and  the  talk  of  the  town." 

"Then  you  knew?"  he  exclaimed  in  surprise. 

"Why,  of  course  I  knew !  I  haven't  heard  any- 
thing else  all  day.  And,  to  make  it  certain,  Melissa 
called  on  grandmother  this  afternoon,  just  after  she 
had  been  at  your  house." 

Bradley  smiled  ruefully.  "You  must  have  heard 
an  encouraging  yarn  from  her,"  he  said.  "Have  you 
got  company?" 

"Oh !  only  a  friend  of  ours  that  you  know.  Come 
right  into  the  parlor." 

He  walked  across  the  threshold  of  that  sacred 
apartment  to  find  Sam  Hammond  seated  in  the  hair- 
cloth rocker  and  looking  very  much  at  home.  Neither 
of  the  young  men  appeared  particularly  happy  at 
meeting  the  other,  but,  truth  to  tell,  Hammond  was 
the  more  self-possessed. 

"Hello,  Brad!"  he  said,  easily.  "I've  heard  noth- 
ing but  you  and  Cap'n  Ez  since  breakfast.  I'm  glad 
for  you;  it's  a  nice  little  job,  if  you  can  carry  it  out." 

The  contract  had  seemed  anything  but  a  little  one 


206  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

to  Bradley,  and  this  nonchalant  way  of  referring  to  it 
took  him  down  a  bit.  Hammond  continued  in  the 
same  condescending  way. 

"I  don't  believe  I  should  know  how  to  handle  a  job 
like  that,"  he  observed,  "without  power  or  towboats, 
or  things  of  that  sort.  It  would  be  like  working  with 
your  hands  tied.  Our  people  have  everything  to  do 
with,  and  they'd  have  that  lumber  off  in  no  time.  Did 
I  ever  tell  you  how  we  raised  the  Margrave  for  the 
Barclay  Line  folks,  Gus?  That  was  a  job  there  was 
some  fun  in !  She  was  a  big  iron  steamer  that  ran  on 
the  ledge  at  the  mouth  of  Boston  harbor  and  went 
down.  We  got  the  contract  right  in  the  face  of  the 
Salvage  Company  in  their  own  town." 

He  went  on  to  tell  of  the  raising  of  the  great 
steamer;  how  the  divers,  of  which  he  was  one,  worked 
for  days  and  weeks  in  the  iron  hull,  building  a  second 
bottom  of  wood  above  the  splintered  keel  plates ;  how, 
when  this  was  done,  they  caulked  the  wooden  bottom, 
pumped  out  the  water  above  it,  and  floated  the  vessel 
into  the  dry  dock.  There  were  adventures  with  a 
shark  that  came  in  through  the  hole  and  "went  wild" 
when  it  couldn't  find  the  way  out;  a  narrow  escape 
from  death  because  of  a  twisted  air-pipe,  and  much 
more,  all  well  told. 

Gus  listened  with  her  eyes  shining.  Bradley  lis- 
tened and  his  own  little  three  thousand  dollar  contract 
shrunk  and  shrunk  until,  from  a  wonder  that  was  to 
be  accomplished  in  the  face  of  great  odds,  it  became 
a  trifle  hardly  worth  doing  at  all.  Sam  spoke  of  the 
Metropolitan  Wrecking  Company  as  "we,"  and 


THE  LUMBER  SCHOONER          207 

Bradley  forgot  that  the  speaker  was,  after  all,  only  a 
hired  diver  at  five  or  six  dollars  a  day. 

"Oh !"  exclaimed  Gus,  when  the  tale  was  finished, 
uwhat  splendid  things  men  do,  and  how  fine  it  must 
be  to  do  them  !" 

"Yes,"  laughed  Hammond.  "We  got  eighty  thou- 
sand dollars  for  raising  the  Margrave.  Worth  fight- 
ing for;  hey,  Brad?  How  would  you  and  Cap'n  Ez 
look  tackling  a  job  like  that?  New  York's  the  place ; 
a  young  fellow  has  chances  there." 

Sam  did  most  of  the  talking.  Gus  listened  and 
Bradley  brooded.  Perhaps,  he  thought,  he  had  made 
a  mistake  in  leaving  the  big  city;  perhaps,  after  all, 
he  was  destined  to  become  nothing  but  the  "  'long- 
shoreman" Gus  had  intimated  might  be  his  fate. 
Captain  Titcomb  didn't  think  so,  but  he  might  be  mis- 
taken. He  grew  more  downcast  every  minute. 

"I  tell  you,  honest,  Brad,"  said  Sam,  with  apparent 
earnestness,  "I  don't  see  how  you  and  the  Cap'n  are 
going  to  make  much  out  of  this  business  or  get  to  be 
anything  more  than  just  anchor-draggers.  Speaking 
as  a  man  with  some  experience  in  wrecking,  your 
chances  against  the  big  chaps,  like  our  crowd,  look 

small  to  me.    You  may  win  out,  but "    He  shook, 

his  head  doubtfully.  , 

Gus,  at  Hammond's  request,  seated  herself  before 
the  squeaky  old  parlor  organ  and  played  while  she 
and  Sam  sang.  Bradley,  who  didn't  sing,  sat  on  the 
sofa  and  watched  them  gloomily.  All  day  he  had 
been  in  that  excited  nervous  state  where  criticism  or 
encouragement  affected  his  spirits  as  the  weather  does 


208  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

a  barometer.  The  doleful  prophecies  at  the  wharf — 
although  at  another  time  he  would  have  laughed  at 
them — had  depressed  him  in  spite  of  himself.  The 
whole-hearted  joy  and  confidence  of  the  "old  maids" 
had  cheered  him  up  again,  but  now  he  was  realizing 
that,  after  all,  it  was  Gus's  encouragement  and  con- 
gratulation that  he  wanted,  and  she  had  not  congratu- 
lated him. 

At  length  he  rose  to  go,  giving  as  an  excuse  the 
fact  of  his  being  tired  and  having  to  be  up  early  next 
morning.  Gus  apologized  to  Sam  and  accompanied 
him  to  the  door.  She  came  out  on  the  step ;  it  was  a 
beautiful  night,  clear  and  calm,  with  every  star  shin- 
ing. 

Bradley  put  on  his  hat.  "Well,  good  night,"  he 
said,  shortly. 

But  Gus  laid  her  hand  on  his  coatsleeve. 

"Oh,  Brad!"  she  exclaimed  in  an  eager  whisper, 
"I'm  so  glad  you've  got  your  chance  at  last!  It's 
splendid !  Every  one  thinks  so." 

Bradley  smiled  rather  bitterly.  "Not  every  one,  I 
guess,"  he  said.  "Some  people  think  it  doesn't  amount 
to  much,  and  I  don't  know  but  they're  right." 

Gus  shook  her  head  impatiently.  "Don't  talk  that 
way,  Brad!"  she  cried.  "I  said  every  one  thinks  it's 
splendid,  and  so  they  do !  They  may  not  say  so,  but 
that's  because  they're  envious." 

"Humph !    Does  that  include  Sam  ?" 

"Of  course  it  does !  Couldn't  you  see  ?  He  envies 
you  and  that  is  why  he  talks  so  big  about  New  York. 
And  he  knows  you're  going  to  succeed,  too.  Oh, 


THE  LUMBER  SCHOONER          209 

Brad !  you  ought  not  to  speak  of  'not  amounting  to 
much,'  now,  when  your  opportunity  is  here.  You 
ought  to  be  as  proud  and  confident  of  yourself  as  I 
am  proud  and  confident  of  you." 

She  said  it  in  such  a  burst  of  enthusiasm  that  it 
swept  Bradley  off  his  feet.  He  turned  and  grasped 
her  by  both  hands. 

"Gus!"  he  whispered,  looking  straight  into  her 
eyes,  "do  you  believe  in  me  as  much  as  that?" 

She  did  not  shun  his  look.  uYes,"  she  answered, 
simply,  "I  do." 

Goodness  knows  what  might  have  happened  then. 
Perhaps  Gus  was  afraid  to  wait  and  see.  At  all 
events,  she  snatched  her  hands  from  his,  whispered 
"good  night,"  and  ran  into  the  house. 

Bradley's  discouragement  had  vanished.  Every 
foot  of  the  walk  to  the  "old  maids'  "  door  was  arched 
with  a  separate  rainbow.  It  had  been  anything  but  a 
bad  evening,  after  all. 


e. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

AT  SETUCKIT  POINT. 

AND    there   she   is!"    said   Captain    Titcomb, 
standing  beside  Bradley  in  the  bow  of  the 
Lizzie.     "There  she  is,  just  where  we  left 
her.    Here's  hopin'  she  don't  quit  till  we  want  her  to. 
Run  along  under  her  stern,  Barney;  tide's  goin'  out, 
but  there's  water  enough  there." 

It  was  the  morning  of  the  second  day  following 
the  securing  of  the  wrecking  contract.  The  Lizzie, 
with  Bradley,  the  Captain,  and  Alvin  Bearse  aboard, 
had  left  the  Orham  wharf  an  hour  or  more  before. 
They  had  stopped  at  the  Point  to  pick  up  Peleg  My- 
rick  and  Bill  Taylor,  the  new  hands,  whose  services 
the  Captain  had  secured  without  much  trouble.  The 
only  difficulty  had  been  in  persuading  Mr.  Myrick  to 
leave  Skeezicks  at  the  shanty.  This  had  been  over- 
come, however,  and  the  shivering  pup,  locked  in  the 

210 


AT  SETUCKIT  POINT  211 

room  that  was  Peleg's  sitting-room,  dining-room  and 
kitchen,  had  howled  a  sad  farewell  through  the  crack 
of  the  door.  His  master  had  left  a  liberal  supply  of 
food  to  console  his  pet,  and  had  explained  the  situa- 
tion thoroughly  to  the  dog  before  locking  him  up. 

"He  feels  kind  of  bad  now,"  said  Peleg,  looking 
sorrowfully  back  at  the  weather-beaten  shanty,  from 
which  faint,  muffled  howls  floated  in  dismal  cadences, 
"but  I've  told  him  that  I  felt's  though  I'd  ought  to 
take  the  job,  and  he'll  git  over  it  by  and  by.  Jest  like 
a  human,  that  dog  is,  jest  exactly." 

They  tried  to  persuade  the  weather  prophet  to 
leave  his  concertina  behind,  but  that  was  a  trifle  too 
much ;  Peleg  brought  it  with  him,  wrapped  in  an  old 
sweater. 

Barney  ran  the  little  wrecking  schooner  under  the 
tilted  stern  of  the  Ruth  Ginn,  and  Bradley  sprang 
from  the  shrouds  to  the  rail  of  the  stranded  craft. 
Then,  one  by  one,  all  but  Barney,  who  stayed  behind 
to  look  after  the  Lizzie,  they  clambered  aboard  the 
wreck.  Most  of  the  hard  pine  boards  that  formed 
the  deck-load  were  in  place,  having  been  lashed  well 
and  being  out  of  the  reach  of  the  heaviest  seas,  which 
had  spent  their  force  on  the  stern  and  after  portion  of 
the  vessel. 

"So  fur,  so  good,"  observed  the  Captain,  cheer- 
fully. "Now,  Alvin,  you  go  below  and  see  how 
things  look  there.  Peleg,  try  her  with  the  pumps; 
let's  see  if  she's  leakin'  much.  Brad,  come  here  and 
take  a  squint  at  this  windlass." 

The  patent  windlass  was  in  good  condition,  and 


2 1 2  PAR  TNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

so  also,  to  their  delight,  was  the  donkey  engine.  Pe- 
leg,  working  manfully  at  the  pump,  reported  that  she 
had  some  water  in  her,  but  that  it  didn't  useem  to  be 
gainin'  none." 

"That's  all  right!"  said  the  Captain.  "If  she 
ain't  a  sieve,  she'll  do.  She's  plumb  full  of  lumber 
and  you  can't  sink  that.  Barney!"  he  hailed,  "run 
over  into  the  deep  water  at  the  lee  of  the  shoal  there, 
and  anchor.  Then  take  the  dory  and  come  aboard; 
we  want  to  git  to  work." 

Then  Bradley  got  steam  up  in  the  donkey  engine 
and  the  big  anchor  of  the  Ruth  Ginn,  attached  to  a 
heavy  cable,  was  lowered  carefully  until  its  shank 
rested  across  the  stern  of  the  dory.  To  this  main 
cable,  near  its  middle,  were  spliced  two  others  just  as 
heavy;  to  each  of  these  another  anchor  was  made  fast. 
The  dories  were  rowed  out  almost  at  a  right  angle 
from  the  wreck  into  the  deep  water.  Then  the  anchors 
were  thrown  overboard  and  a  three-fingered  iron 
hand,  with  its  spread  talons  deep  in  the  sand,  held  the 
lumber  schooner  fast. 

"Now,  Brad,"  commanded  the  Captain,  "haul  that 
line  taut." 

Bradley  started  his  engine,  the  windlass  turned, 
and  the  cable,  that  had  hung  loose  from  the  bow  of 
the  wreck,  lifted  from  the  water  and  tightened  till  it 
groaned. 

"All  she'll  stand,  is  it?"  asked  the  skipper. 
"Good !  make  her  fast.  They  say  tide'll  wait  for  no 
•nan,  so  I  guess  we'll  have  to  do  the  next  best  thing 
and  wait  for  the  tide.  Now  boys!"  as  the  men 


AT  SETUCKIT  POINT  213 

climbed  aboard  from  the  dories,  "git  to  work  and 
strip  her." 

It  is  always  the  tide  at  Setuckit.  The  tide,  tearing 
around  the  Point,  day  after  day,  year  after  year,  has 
scoured  out  the  narrow  ship  channel  and  piled  up 
the  shoals.  The  tide,  catching  the  unwary  coasting 
vessel  or  homeward-bound  ship  driven  into  its 
clutches  by  its  ally  the  on-shore  gale,  coaxes  the  strug- 
gling victim  in,  little  by  little,  until,  all  at  once,  it 
grips  her  in  triumph  and  throws  her  bodily  upon  the 
soft,  treacherous  sand  bars.  And  there,  unless  the 
wreckers  come  to  the  rescue,  she  lies  until  the  next 
storm,  when  wind  and  tide  tear  her  into  fragments 
and  leave  nothing  but  a  sunken,  ragged  hulk  to  be 
blown  up,  eventually,  by  the  men  employed  by  the 
government  to  keep  the  ocean  highways  clear. 

But,  curiously  enough,  the  same  tide  that  forces 
the  vessels  on  the  shoals  is  the  wreckers'  greatest  aid 
in  getting  them  afloat  again.  A  steam  tug  is  rarely 
of  much  use  in  these  waters.  No  pull  that  these  stout 
little  workers  can  give  is  sufficient  to  start  a  heavy 
craft  with  its  keel  deeply  buried  in  the  sand.  Anchors 
and  cables,  and  the  tide,  do  the  business,  if  it  is  done 
at  all. 

Bradley  and  the  Captain  knew  that  they  could  not 
hope  to  get  out  all  the  lumber  in  the  hold  of  the  Ruth 
Ginn  if  she  was  allowed  to  lie  in  her  present  exposed 
position.  One  more  gale  and  she  would  be  almost 
certain  to  break  up.  Their  hope  was  to  lighten  her 
by  getting  rid  of  her  deck  load  and  to  work  her  off 
the  shoal  into  deep  water  and  then  tow  her  up  to 


214  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

Orham  harbor,  where  she  could  be  unloaded  at  their 
leisure. 

She  lay  almost  broadside  to  the  shoal,  but, not 
quite.  Her  bow  was  well  up  on  the  sand,  but  her 
stern  overhung  the  edge  of  the  Boneyard,  which,  on 
that  side,  was,  as  Captain  Titcomb  said,  usteep  as 
the  back  of  a  barn."  The  cable,  tight  as  the  steam 
windlass  could  draw  it,  led  off  from  her  bow  to  the 
spot  where  the  anchors  were  planted  under  many 
fathoms  of  water.  Where  the  tide  turned,  its  pres- 
sure against  the  schooner  would  bring  her  to  bear 
on  the  cable  with  a  tremendous  pull.  The  waves, 
growing  larger  as  the  water  deepened,  should,  if  their 
plan  was  a  good  one,  loosen  her  keel  in  the  sand,  and 
every  inch  she  gave  the  cable  would  retain.  The 
more  she  loosened,  the  easier  she  would  move.  The 
slack  thus  made  in  the  cable  would  be  taken  up  by 
the  windlass.  She  might  gain  but  a  foot  a  day  for 
awhile,  but,  some  day  or  other,  if  the  weather  held 
fair,  she  would  have  worked  herself  through  the  sand 
and  clear  of  the  shoal. 

They  stripped  her,  cutting  away  her  tangled  ropes 
and  sails  and  taking  them  aboard  the  Lizzie.  Every- 
thing movable,  except  of  course  the  lumber,  they 
transferred  thus  or  threw  overboard.  It  was  a  hard 
job  and  took  them  all  day.  Bradley  was  a  tired  man 
when  he  reached  home  that  night,  but  he  had  to  an- 
swer countless  questions  put  to  him  by  the  interested 
"old  maids."  He  saw  Gus  for  a  moment  or  two  and 
reported  progress.  Then  he  went  to  bed. 

Next  morning  was  clear  and  calm  and  they  were 


AT  SETUCKIT  POINT  215 

delighted  to  .  find  that  the  wrecked  schooner  had 
gained  a  little  and  that  the  cable  was  slacker  than 
they  left  it.  They  tightened  it  again,  with  the  wind- 
lass, and  then  set  to  work  throwing  overboard  the 
lumber  on  the  deck.  They  rigged  a  tackle  on  the 
stump  of  the  foremast  and,  with  the  donkey  engine, 
swung  great  bundles  of  the  planks  overboard,  while 
Alvin  and  Barney,  standing  on  the  floating  timber, 
with  the  water  swashing  around  the  knees  of  their 
fishermen's  boots,  made  it  into  rafts  to  be  towed  up  to 
Orham. 

Here  it  was  that  the  partners  appreciated  the  lack 
of  an  engine  on  the  Lizzie. 

"I  tell  you  one  thing,  Brad!"  exclaimed  the  Cap- 
tain, pausing  to  cut  a  splinter  from  his  thumb  with  an 
enormous  jackknife  which  had  seen  years  of  service, 
"if  we  make  good  on  a  few  more  jobs  like  this,  we'll 
have  a  new  schooner  built  for  us  if  we  have  to  run 
in  debt  for  it  till  we  can't  touch  bottom.  This 
pitchin'  hay  with  a  two-tined  table-fork  ain't  my 
style." 

That  night  they  hired  Ira  Sparrow's  fishing  boat, 
the  You  and  I,  to  tow  the  lumber  rafts.  She  was  a 
stout  little  craft  with  a  naphtha  engine,  and,  although 
not  nearly  so  efficient  as  a  tug,  did  the  work  after  a 
fashion  and  was  far  and  away  cheaper.  By  hiring 
her  they  added  Ira  to  their  force. 

For  eight  days  they  labored  steadily;  except  on 
Sunday,  when  they  merely  sailed  down  to  take  up  the 
slack  on  the  cable.  The  lumber  on  the  deck  had  been 
rafted  to  Orham  and  they  had  begun  to  get  out  that 


2 1 6  PAR  TNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

in  the  hold.  The  Ruth  Glnn  was  moving  slowly 
through  the  sand  and  every  day  showed  more  and 
more  gain.  The  partners  were  in  high  spirits. 

"She's  a-comin',  Brad!  she's  a-comin'!"  exulted 
Captain  Titcomb.  "Peleg  says  clear  and  fine  for  a 
fortni't  yit.  We've  got  out  enough  now  to  pay 
expenses,  but  that  don't  count.  What  we're  after 
is  to  git  it  all,  and,  if  somethin'  don't  bust,  we'll 
do  it." 

The  whole  town  was  interested  in  the  work.  Brad- 
ley was  waylaid  by  dozens  of  people  every  night. 
The  prophets  of  calamity  had  already  begun  to 
hedge,  although,  of  course,  they  were  agreed  that,  if 
success  did  come,  it  would  do  so  because  the  partners 
were  lucky  and  had  had  good  weather.  "Ez  Tit- 
comb  and  a  fool  for  luck,"  was  the  way  Captain 
Jabez  Bailey  put  it. 

The  old  maids  grew  more  exultant  with  every  even- 
ing's report. 

"Ain't  it  splendid,  Prissy?"  Miss  Tempy  would 
cry,  clapping  her  hands  and  waving  the  dishcloth. 
"How  much  did  you  make  to-day,  Bradley?" 

Gus  was  just  as  much  pleased,  but  more  philosophi- 
cal. 

"I  knew  you'd  win,  Brad,"  she  said. 

The  sisters  were  very  anxious  to  see  how  the  work 
was  done. 

"Oh,  dear!"  sighed  Miss  Tempy.  "I'd  give  any- 
thing to  be  down  at  the  Point  and  watch  you  work. 
Seems's  if  I  must  go!" 

"You  wouldn't  be  able  to  see  much  without  a 


AT  SETUCKIT  POINT  217 

glass,"  was  Bradley's  answer.  "We're  a  mile  and  a 
half  off  the  Point." 

"Father's  glass  is  up  garret.  Oh,  Brad!  can't  we 
go?" 

They  were  so  eager  and  the  weather  was  so  warm 
and  pleasant  that  Bradley  began  to  think  it  might  be 
possible  to  arrange  for  a  picnic  at  the  Point.  He 
hesitated  about  suggesting  it  to  the  Captain,  however, 
because  he  was  not  quite  sure  how  the  latter  would 
like  spending  a  day  with  the  ladies  whom  he  had  so 
unceremoniously  dropped  from  his  visiting  list.  But 
his  first  hint  was  received  with  great  cordiality. 

"Sure  thing!"  said  Captain  Titcomb.  "Mighty 
good  idea,  Brad.  I  ain't  been  to  a  beach  picnic  for  I 
don't  know  when.  Let's  see;  who'll  we  ask?  The 
old  maids,  of  course;  and  Gusty  Baker,  maybe — 
what  do  you  think  about  havin'  her,  Brad?  Oh!  all 
right;  you  needn't  look  at  me  like  that.  And  p'raps 
Eri  Hedge  and  Perez  Ryder  and  Cap'n  Jerry  might 
come.  They'd  be  comp'ny  for  Prissy  and  Tempy. 
Eri's  a  great  feller  to  train  and  carry  on  and  he'd 
enjoy  a  cruise  like  this.  Then  we  ought  to  have  some 
girls  to  be  comp'ny  for  Gusty.  She  won't  want  to 
hang  'round  the  beach  all  day  and  do  nothin'  but 
squint  through  a  spyglass  at  you,  so  don't  flatter  your- 
self she  will.  Might  ask  Georgiana  Bailey,  so's  to 
give  tone  to  the  outfit?  No?  Well,  I  don't  care 
much  for  high  society,  myself.  How  about  that  Hop- 
kins girl — Clara,  seems  to  me  her  name  was?" 

So  the  excursion  was  decided  upon  for  the  very 
next  day,  and  that  evening  Bradley  went  about  issuing 


2 1 8  PAR  TNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

invitations.  He  kept  closely  to  the  Captain's  list  and 
Perez  Ryder  was  the  only  one  of  those  suggested  who 
felt  obliged  to  decline.  Captain  Perez  was  caretaker 
at  a  big  summer  house  on  the  "cliff  road"  and,  as  the 
family  was  coming  from  the  city  in  a  day  or  so,  there 
were  preparations  to  be  made. 

"Peleg  said  good  weather  for  to-day,"  declared 
Captain  Titcomb  next  morning,  when  laden  with 
baskets  and  boxes,  the  excursion  party  gathered  at  the 
wharf.  "Thinks  I,  'My  son,  you  don't  know  what 
you're  prophesyin'  against:  if  a  picnic  can't  raise  a 
shower  then  nothin'  will.'  But  here  'tis,  fine  as  a  fid- 
dle, spite  of  the  handicap.  No  use  talkin',  Peleg's 
got  the  Old  Farmer's  Almanac  beat  a  mile. 
Land  sake,  Prissy!  what  you  got  in  that  clothes 
basket?" 

'Taint  a  clothes  basket,  Cap'n  Ezra.  How  you 
do  talk!  It's  jest  a  plain  lunch  basket,  and  there's 
things  to  eat  in  it,  if  you  must  know." 

"Things  to  eat!  Say,  Brad,  you  didn't  invite  this 
crowd  for  a  week's  cruise,  did  you  ?  There's  enough 
in  that  basket  to  vittle  a  man-o'-war.  And  Tempy's 
got  one  too!  What's  that  other  thing  you've  got, 
Tempy — a  spyglass?" 

"Yes;  one  that  b'longed  to  father.  We're  goin' 
to  watch  you  and  Bradley  at  work  on  the  wreck." 

"Crimuste*/  Did  you  hear  that,  Brad?  You've 
got  to  behave  yourself  to-day.  No  drinkin'  out  of 
the  jug,  and  then  chasin'  Peleg  with  a  hatchet;  you've 
got  to  keep  sober." 

And,  winking  at  Captain  Eri,  who  was  silently  en- 


AT  SETUCKIT  POINT  219 

joying  Miss  Tempy's  horrified  expression,  the  Cap- 
tain led  the  way  aboard  the  Lizzie. 

They  had  a  fair  wind  down  and  the  sail  wds  a 
jolly  one.  Arriving  at  the  Point,  they  landed  the  vis- 
itors, and  picked  up  Bill  Taylor  and  Mr.  Myrick. 
Miss  Tempy  begged  to  be  allowed  to  stay  on  board 
and  go  off  with  them  to  the  wreck,  but  the  Captain 
wouldn't  hear  of  it. 

"Last  time  I  took  a  woman  out  back  of  the  P'int 
here,"  he  said,  "was  over  ten  years  ago.  She  was  a 
minister's  wife  and  her  husband  was  with  her.  We 
was  tryin'  for  bluefish,  and  when  he'd  heave  his  line 
she'd  screech  like  a  foghorn  and  beg  of  him  not  to 
git  drownded  for  her  sake.  Way  I  looked  at  it,  she 
was  his  best  excuse  for  wantin'  to  be  drownded. 
Well,  we  got  out  where  'twas  pretty  rugged,  and 
every  time  the  boat  rolled  she'd  jump  and  hold  out 
her  arms  to  me  like  she  was  goin'  to  grab  me  'round 
the  neck.  Bein'  a  bashful  man,  I  pretty  nigh  had 
heart  disease  'fore  we  got  ashore.  'Course  you 
wouldn't  do  nothin'  like  that,  Tempy,  but " 

"The  idea !"  exclaimed  Miss  Tempy,  turning  very 
red. 

"Reminds  me  of  a  woman  I  took  out  sailin'  once," 
observed  Captain  Eri.  "She  kept  sayin'  she  was 
hav-in'  an  'adorable  time,'  and  when  'twan't  that 
'twas,  'Oh,  Cap'n  Hedge !  are  you  sure  it's  perfectly 
safe?'  or  'Cap'n,  you're  sartin  you  know  how  to  han- 
dle the  boat,  ain't  you  ?'  Fin'lly  she  looks  down  the 
centre-board  well,  throws  up  both  hands  and  whoops, 
'I  knew  it !  I  knew  it !  we're  sinkin' !  There's  a  hole 


220  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

right  through  the  bottom  of  the  boat  and  it's  full  of 
water!'" 

So  Miss  Tempy  gave  up  the  idea  of  going  off  to  the 
wreck  and  contented  herself  with  the  possession  of 
the  spyglass.  Captain  Eri  and  Captain  Jerry,  laden 
with  the  lunch  baskets,  led  the  way  up  to  the  big 
empty  shanty  that  had  sheltered  thirty  men  in  the  old 
days  when  Point  fishing  was  a  paying  industry,  and 
the  Lizzie,  with  the  workers  aboard,  headed  for  the 
Ruth  Ginn. 

Ira  Sparrow,  in  the  You  and  I,  was  there  already, 
and  the  "chug!  chug!"  of  his  naphtha  engine  was 
heard  as  he  came  rushing  to  meet  them. 

"Brad!  Cap'n  Ez!"  he  hailed,  as  soon  as  they 
were  in  shouting  distance.  "She's  shifted  like  time 
in  the  night !  I  swan,  I  b'lieve  we  can  git  her  off  this 
tide!" 

This  was  such  unexpected  good  news,  for  they  had 
figured  on  another  week  at  least,  that  the  partners 
could  scarcely  believe  it. 

"Are  you  sure  ?"  shouted  Bradley,  leaning  over  the 
^Lizzie's  bow. 

"Pretty  nigh  sure.    Look  for  yourself." 

They  shot  up  to  the  wreck,  to  find  the  cable,  that 
had  been  left  tight  and  rigid,  hanging  loose.  An  in- 
experienced eye  could  see  that  the  lumber  schooner 
had  changed  her  position.  Her  bow  was  now  almost 
in  a  line  with  the  edge  of  the  shoal  and,  even  in  the 
slack  water  of  the  last  of  the  ebb,  she  was  rocking 
appreciably  in  the  cradle  her  hull  had  made  in  the 
sand  beneath  it. 


AT  SETUCKIT  POINT  221 

"Great  scissors  to  grind!"  shouted  Captain  Tit- 
comb.  "She'll  do  it  as  sure  as  I'm  a  foot  high !  Tum- 
ble aboard  there,  boys!  lively!" 

They  clambered  up  the  side  and  fell  to  work  like 
sharks  around  a  dead  whale.  Bradley  got  up  steam 
in  the  donkey  engine.  As  soon  as  possible  they  start- 
ed the  windlass  and  hauled  the  cable  taut. 

"She  feels  it,  boy;  she  feels  it!"  cried  the  Captain. 
"Give  it  to  her!  every  pound  she'll  stand.  Now, 
then,"  he  added,  "while  we're  waitin'  for  the  tide  to 
turn  we  might's  well  roust  out  a  little  more  of  the 
cargo.  No  use  to  lay  back  and  let  Providence  do  it 
all.  The  Lord  helps  them  that  helps  themselves,  as 
the  darkey  said  when  he  found  the  hen-house  door 
unlocked.  Hatches  off,  men !  dive  into  it  there !" 

They  rigged  the  blocks  and  tackle  and  began 
swinging  bundles  of  mahogany  strips  from  the  hold 
and  over  the  side.  The  tide  turned  and  the  water 
on  the  shoal  grew  deeper.  The  Ruth  Ginn  rocked  in 
her  sand  cradle;  every  little  while  they  hove  taut  on 
the  cable  in  order  to  take  up  every  inch  of  slack. 

It  was  exhilarating,  exciting  work,  this  fight  with 
old  ocean,  and  Bradley  and  the  Captain  gloried  in  the 
sheer  joy  of  it.  They  were  winning,  and  winning  not 
only  a  goodly  sum  of  money,  but  the  first  big  prize 
that  would  demonstrate  their  ability  to  carry  through 
larger  and  more  important  contracts.  The  forenoon 
passed. 

"They  expected  us  ashore  for  dinner  long  ago," 
panted  the  skipper,  standing  by  the  hatch,  his  coat 
and  cap  off  and  the  wind  blowing  his  hair  this  way 


222  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

and  that;  "but  they'll  have  to  take  it  out  in  expectin'. 
I  wouldn't  quit  now  if  the  Pres'dent  of  the  United 
States  was  waitin'  for  me  and  the  turkey  gittin'  cold; 
hey,  Brad?" 

"I  should  say  not !"  replied  the  junior  partner,  his 
eyes  snapping.  "What's  that?  Didn't  she  move 
then?" 

"Cap'n  Ez!"  bellowed  Ira,  from  the  You  and  I. 
"She's  movin' !  come  up  on  your  cable." 

The  Captain  jumped  to  the  windlass  and  Bradley 
to  his  engine.  The  cable  tightened,  and  slowly,  inch 
by  inch,  wound  back  over  the  windlass  barrel.  From 
beneath  the  Ruth  Ginn  came  a  sliding,  grating  sound, 
the  most  welcome  sound  in  the  world  to  the  wreckers. 
Bearse,  picking  up  a  heavy  coil  of  rope  from  the  deck, 
tossed  it  to  Ira. 

"That's  the  stuff,  Alvin !"  roared  the  Captain,  ap- 
provingly. "Make  it  fast  in  the  bows.  Now,  Ira! 
put  your  power  onto  that  line." 

The  You  and  I  leaped  out  into  deep  water  and, 
with  her  naphtha  engine  coughing  furiously,  pulled 
doggedly  at  the  new  tow  line.  The  grating  under 
the  keel  of  the  lumber  schooner  grew  louder;  she 
quivered  from  stem  to  stern.  The  cable  crept  in- 
board faster  and  faster. 

Then  there  came  a  shake,  a  roll  that  caused  Mr. 
Myrick  to  lose  his  footing  and  tumble  into  the  scup- 
pers, and,  with  a  triumphant  wallow,  the  Ruth  Ginn 
slid  off  the  shoal.  And  from  her  deck,  and  from  that 
of  the  You  and  I,  went  up  a  yell  that  scared  the  gulls 
fishing  away  over  on  the  Razorback. 


AT  SETUCKIT  POINT  223 

They  drew  her  into  the  channel,  well  out  of  danger, 
and  anchored  her  firmly,  bow  and  stern. 

"There  I"  said  the  Captain,  triumphantly.  "She'll 
stay  there  till  we  can  get  a  tug  from  Vineyard  Haven. 
We'll  go  ashore  and  telephone  from  the  life-saving 
station  for  one  this  minute.  No  more  work  to-day, 
boys.  They're  waitin'  dinner  for  us,  and  we've 
earned  it." 

That  the  good  news  was  already  known  on  the 
beach  was  plain.  On  the  roof  of  the  big  shanty  some- 
one— it  was  Captain  Eri — was  seated,  waving  a  flag 
made  of  a  coat  tied  to  a  weir  pole.  As  the  Lizzie  and 
the  You  and  I  ran  into  the  cove  the  picnic  party  came 
hurrying  to  meet  them. 

"Now  then !"  shouted  Captain  Jerry,  waving  his 
hat;  "three  cheers  for  the  wreckers !  Hooray!" 

And  Miss  Tempy's  handkerchief  sailed  off  on  the 
breeze  as  she  let  go  of  it  in  her  excitement. 

The  Captain  ran  up  to  the  life-saving  station  to 
telephone  to  Sam  Hardy  an  order  to  wire  Vineyard 
Haven  to  send  a  tug  at  once.  When  he  came  back 
dinner  was  ready. 

It  was  a  tiptop  shore  dinner;  baked  clams,  clam 
chowder,  fried  plaice-fish,  and  all  the  pies,  apple  puffs 
and  cake  that  had  filled  the  lunch  baskets.  Bradley 
was  too  excited  to  eat  much  and  the  old  maids  were  a 
little  worried  in  consequence. 

While  the  ladies  washed  the  dishes  the  men  smoked 
and  spun  yarns.  It  was  after  three  o'clock  when  they 
finished.  Then  they  dragged  Peleg  Myrick  into  the 
shanty  and  made  him  play  the  concertina,  while  they 


224  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

danced  "Hull's  Victory,"  "Speed  the  Plough,"  and 
the  ever  popular  "Virginia  Reel."  There  were  not 
partners  enough  to  go  around,  so  some  of  the  men 
danced  together.  Captain  Titcomb,  in  his  rubber 
boots,  offered  his  arm  with  a  flourish  to  Captain  Eri 
and  the  "cuts"  and  "double  shuffles"  that  the  two 
shellbacks  introduced  into  that  reel  were  wonderful, 
although  they  very  nearly  broke  up  the  dance. 

"We  won't  have  supper  till  seven  o'clock,"  an- 
nounced Captain  Titcomb.  "Come  on,  girls  and 
boys !  who  wants  to  go  over  to  the  lighthouse?" 

They  all  did,  or  nearly  all;  Gus  was  standing  by 
the  back  window,  looking  at  the  sea,  and  she  did  not 
reply. 

"Ain't  Brad  goin'?"  asked  Miss  Prissy  anxiously, 
turning  as  she  was  about  to  leave  the  shanty,  with 
Captain  Jerry  as  her  escort. 

"Leave  Brad  alone  a  minute,"  called  Captain  Tit- 
comb,  who  was  walking  with  Clara  Hopkins.  "He 
wants  to  git  his  bearin's,  I  guess.  You  women  folks 
have  pretty  nigh  talked  his  head  off.  He'll  be  along 
pretty  soon." 

They  went  away  and  Bradley,  for  the  first  time, 
was  alone  with  Gus.  The  old  maids  had  given  him  no 
chance  to  do  more  than  speak  the  barest  word  with 
her  before,  and  now  that  he  had  the  opportunity,  he 
was  almost  afraid  to  begin.  She  must  have  known 
that  he  was  there,  but  she  did  not  turn  her  head. 

The  silence  was  very  awkward.  Bradley  broke  it, 
after  what  seemed  a  long  time. 

"Gus,"  he  said. 


AT  SETUCKIT  POINT  225 

She  turned  then,  and,  after  glancing  at  his  face, 
spoke  hurriedly. 

"Oh!"  she  exclaimed;  "they've  gone  and  left  us. 
Come;  let's  catch  them !" 

But  he  stopped  her  before  she  reached  the  door. 

"Gus,"  he  said,  seizing  her  hand  and  holding  it; 
"haven't  you  got  anything  to  say  to  me?" 

She  did  not  look  at  him.  "What  shall  I  say?"  she 
asked.  "What  do  you  want  me  to  say?" 

"Why,  I  thought  you'd  be  glad  that  I've  got  the 
schooner  off.  I  thought  you'd  say — the  others 
said—" 

"I  am  glad,  very  glad.  And  very  proud.  But  I 
knew  you  would  succeed.  Hadn't  we  better  go?" 

But  he  would  not  let  her  go. 

"I  hoped  you'd  say  more  than  that,"  he  said,  dis- 
appointedly. "I  was  dreadfully  blue  the  other  night 
when  Sam  was  there.  I  thought  that,  after  all,  per- 
haps I  was  making  a  fool  of  myself  in  giving  up  the 
city  and  trying  to  win  out  down  here.  It  looked  so 
small  beside  the  great  jobs  Sam  talked  about.  But 
when  you  spoke  to  me  on  the  steps  and  told  me  you 
believed  in  me,  it  all  changed,  and  I  swore  to  myself 
that  I  would  win,  because  you  wanted  me  to.  Gus, 
•  do  you  really  care?  Are  you  really  glad?" 
!  Then  she  turned  to  him  and  he  saw  that  her  eyes 
were  wet. 

"What  do  you  want  me  to  say?"  she  whispered. 
"That  I  am  more  glad  than  I've  ever  been  in  my  life 
before,  and  so  proud  of  you,  so  proud  because  you 
were  brave  enough  to  make  your  fight  and  win  it  in 


220  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

the  face  of  the  whole  village?  And  so  ashamed  of 
myself  because  I  didn't  encourage  you  as  I  ought 
when  you  first  told  me  ?  I  can  say  all  that,  Brad,  and 
truly  mean  it." 

"But  Gus — oh!  it's  no  use!  that  isn't  enough.  I 
haven't  got  any  money,  and  I've  only  begun  in  my 
work,  and  I  may  fail,  after  all ;  but  Gus,  will  you  wait 
for  me?  Do  you  care  enough  for  me  to  wait  and 
hope  with  me,  and  marry  me  some  day  when  I  really 
win?  Do  you?" 

He  held  her  hand  in  both  of  his  and  waited,  breath- 
less, for  the  answer.  But  she  did  not  give  it ;  instead 
she  looked  at  the  window  and  through  it  at  the  sand 
dunes  and  waving  beach  grass  and  the  blue  sea  be- 
yond. And  Bradley,  gazing  at  her  face,  saw  the 
tears  overflow  her  eyelids  and  roll  down  her  cheeks. 

He  turned  white,  and  a  great  dread  came  over  him. 
"Gus,  don't  you — can't  you  care  for  me?"  he  begged. 

And  then  she  turned,  and,  leaning  her  head  upon 
his  shoulder,  cried  heartily  and  without  restraint. 
"Why  did  you  ask  me?  Why  did  you?"  she  sobbed. 

"Because  I  had  to.    Gus,  don't  you  love  me?" 

"Oh,  Brad!  I  don't  know.  I  think  I  do,  but  I'm 
not  certain.  I'm  very,  very  proud  of  you,  and  I  be- 
lieve in  you,  but,  oh,  dear!  I'm  afraid  of  myself. 
I'm  afraid  of  my  temper;  afraid  I  may  change ;  afraid 
I  don't  really  love  you  as  much  as  I  ought  to." 

"There  isn't  anyone  else,  is  there?" 

She  smiled,  tearfully.  "No,  Brad,  there  isn't  any- 
one else." 

"Then  won't  you  try  to  say  yes?    Perhaps  you'll 


AT  SETUCKIT  POINT  227 

learn  to  care  for  me.  Won't  you  say  yes,  and  try, 
dear?" 

"Do  you  want  me  to  say  it,  now  that  you  under- 
stand just  how  I  feel  ?" 

"Yes." 

1  'Do  you  want  to  take  me  just  as  I  am — liking  you 
better  than  anybody  else  in  the  world,  but  not — per- 
haps, not  really  loving  you  as  it  seems  to  me  a  girl 
ought  to  love  the  man  who  is  going  to  marry  her?" 

"Yes." 

"I'm  a  queer  girl,  Brad.  Grandma  says  I'm  like 
her  best  china  teacups — I  must  be  handled  carefully 
or  there'll  be  a  smash.  I  guess  that's  so.  I  don't 
trust  myself ;  I  change  my  mind  five  times  a  day.  Do 
you  want  me  to  say  yes,  in  spite  of  all  this?" 

"I  do." 

"Then  I  will  say  it;  and  I  will  try  to  be  what  you 
would  like  to  have  me." 

He  bent  his  head  and  kissed  her,  and  just  then 
came  a  thunderous  knock  on  the  door. 

"Brad,"  whispered  Captain  Titcomb,  through  the 
crack ;  "are  you  there  ?  I've  come  back  after  Tempy's 
spyglass.  Git  it  for  me,  will  you?  Maybe  you'd 
better  hurry,"  he  added,  with  a  suppressed  chuckle. 
"She'll  be  here  in  a  minute,  herself." 

The  spyglass  was  handed  out  in  a  jiffy. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  ANCHOR  OF  THE  LIBERTY. 

BRADLEY  would  have  proclaimed  his  happi- 
ness through  a  speaking  trumpet,  but  Gus 
begged  that  the  engagement  be  kept  secret  for 
a  while.  "Please  let  me  feel  a  little  surer  of  myself 
first,"  she  pleaded,  and  Bradley  agreed,  as  he  would 
have  agreed  to  climb  Bunker  Hill  Monument  on  the 
outside  if  she  had  asked  him  to. 

He  "carried  on  so,"  as  Miss  Tempy  expressed  it, 
during  the  sail  home  that  evening,  that  that  lady  was 
a  trifle  alarmed  and  asked  her  sister,  as  they  were 
getting  ready  for  bed,  if  she  thought  there  could  be 
anything  in  what  Captain  Titcomb  had  said  about 
the  jug. 

"Land  sakes!  no!"  was  the  indignant  answer.  "If 
Bradley'd  took  to  drinkin'  I  guess  we'd  have  found  it 
out  afore  this.  Do  you  wonder  the  boy  feels  happy? 
I  could  have  stood  on  my  head,  myself,  when  I  saw 
that  lumber  vessel  come  off  the  shoal  this  afternoon." 

228 


THE  ANCHOR  OF  THE  LIBERTY    229 

One  more  question  Miss  Tempy  asked,  after  the 
light  was  put  out. 

"Prissy,"  she  whispered;  "Cap'n  Titcomb  seemed 
more  like  himself — with  us,  I  mean — than  I've  seen 
him  for  three  years.  Almost  like  he  used  to  be.  Do 
you  s'pose  that  means  anything?" 

"I  don't  know.    Go  to  sleep." 

The  tug  arrived  the  next  forenoon  and  the  hull  of 
the  Ruth  Ginn  was  towed  up  into  Orham  harbor. 
There  she  was  anchored,  where  the  getting  out  of 
the  rest  of  her  cargo  would  be  a  comparatively  easy 
task. 

They  worked  with  might  and  main  and,  at  the  end 
of  a  month,  the  job  was  done.  The  last  joist  was 
laid  upon  the  wharf.  Obed  Nickerson  expressed  him- 
self as  surprised  and  highly  pleased. 

"You  fellers  have  done  mighty  well,"  he  said.  "I 
felt  kind  of  shaky  when  I  let  you  have  the  contract, 
but  I  shan't  feel  so  again.  If  you  had  a  bigger  vessel, 
with  an  engine  in  her,  I  b'lieve  you  could  handle  'most 
anything  that's  likely  to  run  up  on  this  coast." 

Their  share  of  the  cargo's  value  amounted  to 
twenty-nine  hundred  dollars,  and,  all  expenses  de- 
ducted, the  profit  to  the  partners  was  over  two  thou- 
sand. 

"Not  so  mean  for  two  greenhorns  in  a  floatin'  soup 
ladle,"  crowed  the  Captain.  "Brad,  how's  the  Jere- 
miahs these  days?  Ain't  anybody  said  'I  told  you 
so,'  yit,  have  they?" 

The  underwriters'  agent  was  their  friend  now  and, 
inside  of  another  fortnight,  he  had  put  a  job  in  their 


230  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

way  that  brought  them  in  four  hundred  dollars  more. 
She  was  a  coasting  schooner  that  had  grounded  off 
the  Point,  and  her  skipper  had  contemplated  tele- 
graphing to  the  Salvage  Company,  but,  thanks  to 
Obed's  recommendation,  the  chance  was  given — for  a 
much  lower  price,  of  course — to  the  Lizzie's  owners. 
The  vessel  laid  easy,  with  only  her  bows  on  the  sand, 
and  the  anchors  and  cables  got  her  clear  in  three 
days. 

Then  they  went  anchor-dragging  again,  and  met 
with  considerable  success.  The  skipper  of  the  coaster 
that  the  partners  had  worked  off  the  shoal,  as  just 
described,  said  to  a  friend  of  his,  who  commanded  a 
four-master,  "There  are  a  couple  of  fellers  down  to 
Orham  that  are  smart  wreckers  as  ever  I  saw.  They 
snaked  me  off  the  edge  of  the  Razorback  in  next  to 
no  time,  and  didn't  charge  ha'f  the  vessel  was  worth, 
neither."  And  the  captain  of  the  four-master  was 
by  this  reminded  that  he  had  lost  a  good  anchor  and 
thirty  fathoms  of  chain  on  the  Orham  rips  only  three 
months  before.  He  wrote  to  Captain  Titcomb,  giv- 
ing the  "ranges"  as  near  as  he  could  remember  them, 
and  the  partners  agreed  to  undertake  the  job  of  re- 
covering the  lost  "mudhook."  They  found  it,  after 
a  while,  but,  oddly  enough,  their  drag  line  picked  up 
four  other  anchors,  of  various  sizes  and  values,  before 
the  right  one  was  finally  hauled  on  board. 

All  this  was  profitable,  as  well  as  good  advertising, 
and  the  Lizzie's  owners  were  doing  well.  But  they 
were  ambitious  and  yearned  for  the  day  when  they 
might  undertake  bigger  things.  Captain  Titcomb  was 


THE  ANCHOR  OF  THE  LIBERTY    231 

for  ordering  a  new  and  larger  wrecking  schooner  im- 
mediately. 

"What's  the  use  of  waitin',  Brad?"  he  argued. 
"We've  got  enough  on  hand  to  pay  part  of  what  a 
decent  schooner's  worth.  Let's  go  in  debt  for  the 


rest." 


But  Bradley,  more  conservative,  counselled  waiting 
a  little  longer.  "No  use  saddling  ourselves  with  a  big 
debt  to  start  with,"  he  said.  "  'Dead  horse'  is  the 
meanest  animal  to  pay  for  that  I  know  of." 

"You  remind  me  of  Uncle  Elihu  Bassett,  that  the 
old  man — dad,  I  mean — used  to  tell  about,"  said  the 
Captain.  "Uncle  Elihu  was  a  great  feller  for  bein' 
economical.  The  only  thing  he  spent  much  money  for 
was  rum,  and  his  argument  was  that  rum  was  a  cuss 
anyhow,  and  the  more  old  chaps  like  him  bought  the 
less  there  was  to  tempt  the  younger  generation.  Well, 
the  said  generation  didn't  stand  much  show  'longside 
of  him,  that's  a  fact. 

"Dad  used  to  say  he'd  never  forgit  Uncle  Elihu 
settin'  in  the  tavern  that  was  over  at  Harniss  in  those 
days,  and  swearin'  a  blue  streak  because  he  hadn't 
been  able  to  git  down  from  his  house  to  town-meetin' 
the  week  afore. 

"  'Consarn  it!'  says  Elihu;  'I  was  dyin'  to  git  to 
that  meetin'  to  raise  my  voice  ag'in'  appropriatin'  that 
money  to  fix  the  town's  highways.  Wust  extrava- 
gance ever  I  see,  that  is !  I'd  a-been  there,'  says  he, 
'only  the  mud  in  our  road  was  so  deep  I  couldn't  drive 
through  it.'  " 

And,  although  the  Captain  agreed  to  wait  a  little 


23 2  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

longer  before  ordering  the  new  vessel,  he  announced 
that  he  was  going  to  keep  his  eyes  open,  and  perhaps 
he'd  strike  a  bargain  some  day  or  other. 

In  August  Miss  Prissy  threw  the  household  into 
consternation  by  coming  down  with  the  grip.  She 
had  insisted  on  going  to  church  in  the  rain  because 
Mr.  Langworthy's  nephew  from  Providence  was  go- 
ing to  preach  that  Sunday,  and  she  came  home  with 
wet  feet.  A  chill  followed,  Dr.  Palmer  was  called  in 
and  the  housekeeper  and  business  manager,  in  spite 
of  her  protestations,  was  put  to  bed.  And  in  bed  she 
stayed  for  some  time. 

Miss  Tempy,  without  her  sister  was,  as  the  Captain 
would  have  described  it,  "as  uneasy  as  a  fish  out  of 
water."  She  insisted  on  acting  as  nurse  and  house- 
keeper both.  Bradley,  prompted  by  the  doctor, 
hinted  at  hiring  a  servant,  but  was  incontinently 
snubbed. 

"I  guess  not!"  exclaimed  Miss  Tempy.  "I  don't 
want  any  hired  girls  traipsin'  'round  this  house !  I've 
heard  enough  from  other  folks  who  do  have  'em. 
Mrs.  Thankful  Brier  was  tellin'  me  only  a  few  Sun- 
days ago,  at  meetin',  that  her  daughter  Jane  up  to 
Melrose  wrote  her  that  she'd  had  three  girls  in  less'n 
a  fortni't,  and  the  last  one  put  the  dog  crackers,  or 
biscuits,  or  whatever  they  be,  on  the  supper  table 
'cause  she  thought  they  was  cookies.  The  idea !  No, 
I  don't  want  any  girls  I" 

"Then  you  must  let  some  of  the  housework  go. 
It's  too  much  for  you ;  you'll  be  sick,  yourself." 

"Let  the  housework  go!     I  guess  not!     Bradley 


\THE  ANCHOR  OF  THE  LIBERTY    233 

Nickerson,  we  Aliens  may  be  poorer  than  we  used  to 
be,  but  we're  not  shif 'less." 

So,  as  if  to  prove  this  assertion,  she  relentlessly 
scrubbed  the  floor  of  the  big  dining-room  next  day 
and  was  very  pale  and  tired  when  Bradley  came  in  to 
supper.  And  then  followed  the  first  disagreement  be- 
tween the  young  man  and  the  sisters  since  that  dread- 
ful first  day  at  school. 

Bradley  put  his  foot  down  and  declared  that  a 
servant  should  be  hired.  Miss  Tempy  put  hers  down 
even  harder  and  vowed  she  shouldn't.  It  ended  by  a 
scene  in  the  sickroom. 

"Bradley,"  said  Miss  Prissy,  weak  but  unconquer- 
able, "  'fore  I'd  let  you  spend  your  money  to  hire  a 
girl  in  this  house,  I'll  git  right  out  of  this  bed  and  do 
the  work  myself.  If  it's  the  last  act,  I  will !  Tempy, 
you  let  things  slide  till  I'm  better.  Now  mind!" 

But  letting  things  slide  was  not  an  Allen  trait,  as 
Bradley  had  been  told.  Very  much  troubled  he  went 
to  Gus  for  advice. 

"Brad,"  said  that  young  lady,  after  a  few  mo- 
ment's thought;  "I  think  I  know  just  the  one  for  you. 
I  believe  Clara  Hopkins  would  come  if  I  asked  her." 

"Clara  Hopkins !    Why,  Gus !  she  isn't  a  servant." 

"Of  course  she  isn't !  She  wouldn't  think  of  com- 
ing as  a  servant.  But,  you  know,  since  her  mother 
went  away  to  Fall  River  to  stay  with  Clara's  brother 
— his  wife  has  the  typhoid  fever — it  has  been  terribly 
lonesome  for  the  poor  girl  there  at  home.  She  told 
me,  the  other  day,  that  she  couldn't  stay  alone  much 
longer ;  she  thought  she  should  shut  up  the  house  and 


234  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

board  somewhere.  Now,  I  believe  she  would  come 
and  live  with  the  old  maids.  Of  course  you  mustn't 
hint  at  paying  her  wages,  but  she  could  help  about  the 
house,  and  she  is  jolly  and  good  tempered  and  a  splen- 
did nurse.  I'll  ask  her,  if  you  want  me  to." 

"She'd  be  just  the  right  one.  But,  Gus,  it  won't 
work.  Miss  Prissy  or  Miss  Tempy  wouldn't  have 
her  come  there  to  help,  any  more  than  they  would  a 
hired  girl." 

"They  don't  need  to  know  that  she  comes  for  that, 
at  all.  Oh,  Brad!  if  you  were  only  a  little  less 
straight  up  and  down,  and  just  a  little  more  like — 
well,  like  Cap'n  Titcomb.  Don't  you  see  ?  You  must 
make  the  old  maids  think  that  they're  doing  Clara  a 
favor ;  not  that  she's  doing  them  one.  /  could  arrange 
it,  I'm  sure;  but  you're  so  dreadfully  transparent." 

Bradley  was  aware  of  the  transparency  and  it  was 
with  no  great  hope  of  success  that  he  threw  out  the 
first  hint  concerning  Miss  Hopkins.  To  his  surprise 
the  hint  was  well  received.  The  sisters  liked  Clara 
and  she  had  told  Miss  Tempy,  only  the  week  before, 
how  lonely  she  was. 

"Poor  thing!"  sighed  the  younger  sister.  "If 
Prissy  was  well,  I'd  have  her  come  right  up  here  and 
make  us  a  visit.  I'd  be  glad  to  have  her  come  and 
spend  the  day  with  us,  anyhow." 

This  was  unexpected  good  luck.  Clara,  duly 
"coached"  by  Gus,  came  to  spend  the  day.  She  made 
herself  so  thoroughly  at  home,  was  so  pleasant  in  the 
sickroom,  and  helped  in  so  many  ways  without  seem- 
ing to  try,  that  the  old  maids  were  delighted. 


'THE  ANCHOR  OF  THE  LIBERTY    235 

"I  declare,  Clara  1"  said  Miss  Tempy;  "I've  jest 
enjoyed  havin'  you  here.  You  shan't  go  back  to  that 
poky,  shut-up  house  to-night.  We've  got  a  spare 
room  and  you  can  stay  here  jest  as  well  as  not." 
When  the  sisters  were  alone,  she  said:  "Prissy,  I 
never  enjoyed  doin'  a  charitable  act  more'n  I  have 
makin'  that  poor,  lonesome  girl  happy  to-day.  It 
pays  to  act  like  a  Christian,  don't  it?" 

And  after  that,  of  course,  it  was  easy.  Clara  stayed 
on  from  day  to  day.  She  became  a  part  of  the  house- 
hold, and,  gradually,  lifted  the  burden  from  Miss 
Tempy's  shoulders.  It  was  pleasant  to  be  able  to  sit 
by  the  bedside  and  read  aloud  from  The  Fireside 
Comforter,  knowing  the  while  that  the  housework 
was  being  done  and  well  done.  And  Clara  liked 
"perrer  tea,"  or  said  she  did.  Here,  indeed,  was  a 
kindred  spirit. 

One  night — Peleg  had  prophesied  it  for  a  week 
before — a  heavy  northeast  gale  broke  the  monotony 
of  summer  weather.  It  very  nearly  brought  disaster 
with  it.  The  great  six-masted  coal  barge  Liberty,  re- 
cently built,  with  her  twin  sister,  the  Freedom,  by 
Cook  and  Son,  the  "coal  kings"  of  Boston,  came  with- 
in a  hair's  breadth  of  running  bodily  upon  the  Bone- 
yard  shoal.  She  was  running  into  the  Sound,  under 
sail,  with  a  tug  following  her,  and  the  wind  and  tide 
caught  her,  as  they  had  caught  many  another  vessel. 
The  skipper,  suddenly  realizing  his  danger,  ran  to  the 
windlass,  loosened  the  dog  and  pin,  and  let  the  mam- 
moth anchor  go  over  with  a  run.  Then  he  leaped  to 
the  compressor,  to  clamp  the  chain;  but  the  tide  was 


236  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

too  much  for  him.  The  chain  flew  over  the  "wildcat" 
with  a  howl,  and,  before  he  could  stop  it,  anchor  and 
one  hundred  and  twenty  fathoms  of  chain  were 
stretched  out  on  the  bottom. 

Lucky  for  the  Liberty  and  her  owners — she  had 
cost  ninety  thousand  dollars  to  build,  and  carried  over 
five  thousand  tons  of  coal — the  skipper  of  the  stout, 
sea-going  tug  saw  the  danger,  ran  up  astern  of  the 
helpless  barge,  and  got  a  line  aboard  in  time  to  check 
her  headway  and  hold  her  nose  off  the  shoal. 

"Well,  Brad,"  said  Captain  Titcomb,  when  the 
news  reached  Orham;  "land  knows  I  ain't  prayin'  for 
other  folks  to  lose  money,  but  what  a  job  she'd  have 
made  for  somebody — say  for  us,  hey?  There's  from 
thirteen  to  twenty  thousand  in  gittin'  a  whale  like 
her  afloat." 

"Yes,"  replied  his  partner,  "but  twenty  tons  of 
brand-new  anchor  and  chain  are  worth  eight  hundred, 
at  least,  and  half  of  that  will  go  to  whoever  picks  'em 
up.  We  want  that  anchor-dragging  job,  sure." 

But  it  wasn't  so  easy  to  get,  and  so  they  found. 
Their  success  in  the  wrecking  venture  had  bred  would- 
be  rivals.  Before  that  day  was  over,  Seth  Wingate 
and  two  or  three  of  his  friends  had  offered,  by  wire, 
to  locate  and  "buoy"  the  lost  ironwork  for  the  sum 
of  three  hundred  dollars.  Then  the  Salvage  Com- 
pany was  to  send  down  a  tug  and  bring  it  to  the 
surface.  It  was  a  great  disappointment  to  the  part- 
ners. 

It  is  one  thing,  however,  to  agree  to  perform  and 
another  to  do.  Seth  had  not  had  much  experience  in 


THE  ANCHOR  OF  THE  LIBERTY    237 

anchor-dragging,  and  although  his  catboat  and  two 
or  three  dories  scraped  the  bottom  for  three  days,  they 
failed  to  hook  the  object  they  were  after.  The  skip- 
per of  the  Liberty  came  to  Orham  and  put  up  at  the 
Traveller's  Rest.  That  night  Captain  Titcomb  and 
Bradley  called  at  his  room. 

"Cap'n  Gould,"  said  Captain  Ezra,  "does  it  make 
any  difference  to  you  who  finds  that  anchor  and  chain 
of  yours?" 

4 'Not  a  continental?  All  I  want  is  to  have  some- 
body find  it." 

"You  folks  haven't  contracted  with  Wingate  and 
his  crowd  then?" 

"No,  they  offered  to  find  and  buoy  for  so  much,  and 
we  let  'em  try;  that's  all." 

"All  right.  Now,  you  tell  me,  as  nigh  as  you  re- 
member, jest  where  the  Liberty  was  when  you  hove 
anchor." 

So  Captain  Gould  told  them.  The  Setuckit  light 
was  about  so  and  so ;  the  Razorback  lightship  off  here ; 
and  the  rest  of  it. 

"Here's  where  we  lee-bow  brother  Seth,  I  cal'late," 
whispered  Captain  Titcomb  as  they  left  the  room. 
"Pesky  idiots!  they  never  asked  a  question;  jest  went 
bull-headed  draggin'  the  edge  of  the  Boneyard.  If 
Gould's  right  that  anchor's  a  ha'f  mile  to  the  no'th- 


east." 


And,  sure  enough,  there  it  was.  The  drag  line 
from  the  Liz&ie's  dories  caught  on  one  of  the  great 
flukes  before  the  following  forenoon  was  over.  The 
way-line  was  sent  down,  the  messenger  followed,  andr 


23 8  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

clamped  securely,  the  prize  was  "buoyed"  before  din- 
ner time. 

"What  you  doin',  Seth?"  hailed  the  Captain,  in  a 
provokingly  cheerful  voice,  as  they  passed  the  Win- 
gate  catboat.  "Seinin'  porgies?  We've  jest  buoyed 
a  big  mudhook  off  here.  Might  be  the  Liberty's; 
you  can't  tell." 

The  Captain  was  for  going  to  Boston  at  once  and 
claiming  the  three  hundred,  but  Bradley  had  been 
thinking. 

"Why  shouldn't  we  do  the  rest  of  the  job?"  he 
asked.  "That  anchor,  as  it  lies,  is  ours.  We  found 
it;  we  buoyed  it.  Why  should  we  give  it  up  to  the 
Salvage  people?  We  didn't  make  any  deal  with 
them." 

Captain  Titcomb  fairly  whooped  with  delight. 
"Bully  for  you,  Brad!"  he  crowed.  "Sartin  sure  I 
why  should  we?  We  can't  even  take  our  Bible  oath 
that  it's  Gould's  iron  we've  found." 

They  planned  and  argued  until  two  o'clock.  Then 
Bradley  rushed  up  to  the  house,  swallowed  a  hasty 
lunch,  threw  a  nightshirt  and  toothbrush  into 
his  grip  and  caught  the  three  o'clock  train  for 
Boston.  He  did  not  even  stop  to  tell  Gus  of  his 
departure,  and  trouble  came  of  that  omission 
later  on. 

At  nine  o'clock  next  day  he  leaned  across  the  ma- 
hogany rail  in  the  office  of  Cook  and  Son  and  asked 
an  important  young  gentleman,  with  a  pen  behind 
his  ear,  if  Mr.  Cook,  Senior,  was  in. 

"No,"  replied  the  important  young  man,  looking 


\THE  ANCHOR  OF  THE  LIBERTY    239 

condescendingly  at  his  sunburned  questioner;  "but  I 


am." 


Bradley  ventured  to  hint  that  he  was  aware  of  his 
informant's  distinguished  presence,  but  that  he  wished 
to  see  Mr.  Cook,  Senior. 

"What  did  you  want  to  see  him  for?"  queried  the 
human  pen-rack.  Bradley  did  not  care  to  make  his 
business  known,  so  the  young  man  went  back  to  his 
desk.  In  an  hour  he  again  leaned  across  the  rail  to 
inform  the  visitor  that  the  manager  was  in. 

"I  want  to  see  Mr.  Cook,"  replied  Bradley. 

He  waited.  The  forenoon  passed.  People  came 
in  by  dozens,  were  admitted  to  inner  offices  and  went 
away  again.  Beyond  again  asking  what  Bradley's 
business  might  be,  and  receiving  no  satisfactory  an- 
swer, the  gentleman  at  the  desk  did  not  trouble  him- 
self further.  At  exactly  twelve  he  stepped  into  an- 
other room,  returned  with  his  hair  artistically  curled 
on  his  forehead,  covered  it  with  a  straw  hat  surround- 
ed by  a  beautiful  white  and  blue  band,  and  went  out 
— presumably  to  lunch. 

Bradley  was  hungry,  but  persistency  was  one  of  his 
virtues,  and  he  sat  still.  An  hour  later,  a  stout  man 
with  side  whiskers  and  a  protruding  chin  came  out  of 
one  of  the  inner  offices. 

"Are  you  Mr.  Cook?"  asked  Bradley. 

The  stout  man  looked  him  over  and  admitted, 
shortly,  that  he  was. 

"My  name  is  Nickerson.  I'm  from  Orham.  I 
came  to  see  you  about  that  anchor  and  chain  that  the 
'Liberty  lost;  I  think,  perhaps,  IVe  found  it." 


240  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

"You  do,  hey?    Have  you  buoyed  it?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"All  right.  The  Salvage  Company  will  send  a  tug, 
and,  if  it's  our  anchor,  and  you  did  find  it,  we'll  for- 
ward you  a  check  for  three  hundred  dollars.  Any- 
thing more?  I'm  going  to  lunch." 

"Yes,  sir.  The  anchor  and  chain,  as  they  lie  on  the 
bottom,  are  ours.  My  partner  and  I  are  wreckers, 
and  we  think  we  ought  to  have  the  job  of  raising 
them." 

"You  do,  hey?  Well,  the  Salvage  people  do  my 
wrecking  jobs,  and  they'll  do  this  one.  Good-day." 

"Mr.  Cook,  if  a  tug  is  sent  to  Orham  to  take  up 
your  anchor,  and  if  they  touch  our  anchor — the  one 
we've  buoyed — we  shall  sue  you  for  damages." 

The  coal  king  looked  at  him  in  complete  astonish- 
ment. 

"Well !  I  like  your  nerve !"  he  exclaimed.  "Didn't 
you  say  it  was  my  anchor  you'd  found?" 

"I  said  I  thought  it  might  be  yours.  But  we've 
found  it,  whatever  it  is,  and  it's  ours  until  you  prove 
property.  Then,  when  you  do  prove  it,  we'll  be  ready 
to  arrange  for  salvage  charges." 

"How  do  I  know  you  can  raise  anything,  even  a 
rowboat's  anchor?" 

"All  we  ask  is  the  chance  to  prove  it." 

"What'll  you  charge?" 

"Five  hundred  dollars." 

"I'll  see  you  further.  The  Salvage  people  won't 
charge  more  than  that." 

"They  couldn't  do  it  any  better  than  we  can." 


THE  ANCHOR  OF  THE  LIBERTY    241 

"Well,  sir,  you  can  have  three  hundred  if  youVe 
got  it  buoyed,  just  as  I  said.  That's  all  you'll  get, 
and  a  tug  will  be  there  day  after  to-morrow.  Take  it 
or  leave  it.  Now  you  can  go  to  Orham,  or  the 
devil,  just  as  you  like.  You  can't  bluff  me,  young 


man." 


The  great  Mr.  Cook  went  to  lunch  then,  and  Brad- 
ley, too,  left  the  office.  The  young  gentleman  with 
the  striped  hat  band,  who  had  returned  in  time  to 
hear  the  latter  part  of  the  interview,  grinned  pity- 
ingly. 

That  evening,  when  the  train  came  in,  the  Captain 
was  on  the  Orham  station  platform  to  meet  his  part- 
ner. He  listened  with  interest  to  the  story  that  the 
latter  had  to  tell. 

"Say !"  he  exclaimed.  "You  stood  up  in  your  boots 
like  a  little  man,  Brad.  But  ain't  you  afraid  we're 
kind  of  bittin'  off  our  nose  to  spite  our  face?  Cook 
and  Son's  a  big  concern,  and  Titcomb  and  Nickerson 
ain't  quite  in  the  king  row  yit,  you  know." 

The  fact  is  the  Captain's  old  respect  for  owners 
had  not  entirely  disappeared.  He  stood  a  trifle  in 
awe  of  men  whose  payroll  contained  the  names  of 
twenty  skippers. 

"No,  sir!"  replied  Bradley,  with  determination. 
"We're  right,  and  he'll  have  to  come  to  our  terms  or 
let  his  anchor  stay  where  it  is  till  doomsday." 

He  felt  rather  well  satisfied  with  himself,  on  the 
whole,  and  more  like  his  own  master  than  ever  before. 
He  continued  to  feel  that  way  until,  after  supper,  he 
called  upon  Gus,  and  then  the  cool  manner  in  which 


242  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

that  young  lady  received  him  reduced  his  self-esteem 
considerably. 

"Why,  what's  the  matter?"  he  asked,  in  despair, 
after  being  snubbed  and  answered  in  monosyllables 
for  ten  minutes.  "Aren't  you  interested  in  what  I 
did?" 

"Oh!  I  don't  know.  Why  should  I  be?  You're 
not  particularly  interested  in  me;  that's  plain." 

"Not  interested  in  you?  Why,  my  dear  girl! 
I » 

"Bradley  Nickerson,  why  didn't  you  tell  me  you 
were  going  to  Boston  ?  Anyone  would  think  that  was 
the  least  you  could  do." 

"Why — why,  Gus!  I  didn't  have  but  a  minute! 
I  should  have  missed  the  train !" 

"Suppose  you  had,  there's  another  in  the  morning." 

"Yes,  but  then  the  business  would " 

"The  business!  I'm  sick  of  the  business!  You 
don't  think  or  speak  of  anything  but  the  business. 
Why  don't  you  think  of  me,  or  what  I'm  interested 
in,  occasionally?" 

She  had  heretofore  listened  to  his  plans  and 
schemes  so  patiently,  and  had  helped  him  with  so 
many  suggestions,  that  this  sudden  change  upset  him 
completely. 

"Why,  Gus!"  he  faltered.  "I'm  awfully  sorry.  I 
thought  you'd  understand." 

"Yes,  you  thought  I'd  understand;  and  so  you  went 
away  without  a  word  and  left  me  to  find  out  from 
Miss  Tempy  that  you'd  gone.  How  did  you  know 
that  it  would  please  me  to  have  you  go  ?  How  did 


THE  ANCHOR  OF  THE  LIBERTY    243 

you  know  that  I  didn't  wish  to  spend  the  evening 
somewhere?  You  didn't  know,  and  you  were  so  sel- 
fish that  you  didn't  care.  You  neglect  me  more  and 
more  all  the  time." 

It  was  unreasonable,  of  course,  but  there  was  just 
enough  truth  in  it  to  cause  Bradley's  conscience  to 
prick  him  sorely.  He  had  become  more  and  more  in- 
terested in  his  work,  and  his  talk  had  been  principally 
confined  to  that  subject,  but  he  certainly  had  not 
meant  to  be  neglectful.  He  did  what  the  man  must 
do  in  such  cases ;  he  apologized,  confessed  that  it  was 
all  his  fault,  and  humbly  begged  forgiveness,  with  all 
sorts  of  promises  for  the  future. 

After  it  was  all  over  and  they  had  made  up,  Gus 
said: 

"Brad,  I  am  interested  in  your  success  and  in  your 
plans,  but  you  mustn't  let  them  fill  all  your  mind.  I 
told  you  that  day  at  the  Point  that  I  wasn't  sure  of 
myself  and  that,  as  grandma  says,  I  must  be  handled 
with  care.  I'm  trying  hard  to  please  you,  dear. 
Don't  forget  to  try  your  hardest  to  please  me,  even 
in  little  things." 

Later  she  said,  casually,  "I  had  a  letter  from  Sam 
to-day.  They've  made  him  superintendent  of  a  crew 
that  are  at  work  on  a  big  steamer." 

Now  it  wasn't  pleasant  to  learn  that  his  fiancee  re- 
ceived letters  from  another  man,  especially  Sam  Ham- 
mond, but  Bradley  was  wise  enough  to  feel  that  this 
was  not  the  time  to  raise  objections. 

"Oh !  I  shan't  answer  it,  of  course,"  said  Gus,  as  if 
she  had  read  his  thought — as  no  doubt  she  had — "but 


244  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

he  does  have  such  good  times  in  New  York :  theatres, 
and  concerts  and  everything.  Orham  is  such  a  deadly 
dull  place  for  everybody  but  the  summer  people.  I 
do  so  want  to  go  somewhere  or  do  something  for 


amusement." 


Altogether,  that  evening  was  not  the  most  assuring 
or  satisfying  one  of  Bradley's  life. 

And  in  a  few  days,  as  the  senior  member  of  the 
firm  of  Cook  and  Son  had  predicted,  the  tug  came  to 
raise  the  barge's  anchor.  She  belonged  to  the  Salvage 
Company  and  her  skipper  had  been  directed  by  his 
owners  to  stop  on  the  way  to  New  York  and  do  this 
little  job.  She  found  the  Lizzie  lying  to  close  by  the 
buoy. 

"Is  that  the  Liberty's  anchor  you've  got  buoyed 
there?"  shouted  the  captain  of  the  towboat. 

"Don't  know,"  answered  Captain  Titcomb,  cheer- 
fully. "It's  one  we  picked  up  draggin'.  Might  be 
the  Liberty's,  p'raps." 

"Well,  I've  got  orders  to  get  it  up." 

"Guess  not.  That's  our  buoy  and  our  anchor,  fur's 
anybody  but  the  fish  knows.  We'll  fetch  it  up  when 
we're  ready.  Don't  need  any  help." 

"Oh,  look  here!  What's  the  use  of  talkin'? 
That's  the  Liberty's  iron,  all  right.  Let  me  get  at  it ; 
you'll  get  your  price  for  buoyin'  it." 

"You  touch  that  buoy  or  those  lines  and  you'll  git 
into  trouble.  Keep  your  hands  off  our  property  un- 
less you  want  to  pay  for  your  fun." 

The  skipper  of  the  tug  knew  he  had  no  means  of 


THE  ANCHOR  OF  THE  LIBERTY    245 

proving  that  the  buoyed  anchor  was  the  one  he  was 
sent  for.  He  fumed  and  argued  the  whole  forenoon ; 
the  partners  were  cheerful  but  firm.  At  last  the  angry 
towboatman  went  up  to  Orham  to  telephone  for  in- 
structions. He  came  back  swearing  mad. 

"What  did  they  say?"  asked  Captain  Titcomb, 
calmly. 

"Told  me  to  take  it  up  if  I  was  sure  'twas  the  Lib- 
erty's.  How  in  thunder  do  I  know  whose  'tis?" 

All  night  long  the  Lizzie  stayed  by  the  buoy,  and 
the  tug  rocked  close  beside  her.  In  the  morning  the 
skipper  of  the  latter  vessel  hailed  again. 

"How  long  are  you  goin'  to  keep  this  up?"  he 
asked. 

"Oh!  'twouldn't  be  polite  to  go  away  and  leave 
you,  you  bein'  out  of  town  comp'ny,"  was  the  un- 
moved answer.  "We're  takin'  watch  and  watch 
'board  here.  How  do  you  work  it?" 

"Aw,  go  to  thunder!"  was  the  disgusted  reply. 

For  a  few  hours  longer  the  towboat  and  wrecking 
schooner  lay  side  by  side,  while  their  crews  exchanged 
compliments. 

"Hi!"  shouted  Barney  Small,  pointing  to  the  jet 
of  steam  from  the  tug's  escape  pipe;  "your  teakittle's 
leakin'.  Want  to  borrer  our  sodderin'  iron?" 

The  mate  of  the  little  steamer  made  answer  by  re- 
questing Barney  to  lend  him  his  face  "to  fight  a  dog 
with." 

At  noon  the  tug's  skipper  made  another  trip  to  the 
telephone,  this  time  using  that  at  the  life-saving  sta- 
^tion.  He  stated  the  situation  to  his  owners  without 


5.46  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

frills.  The  work  at  New  York  could  not  longer  be 
kept  waiting,  and  he  was  told  to  start  for  that  port. 

"Ain't  goin'  to  leave  us,  are  you?"  hailed  Captain 
Titcomb,  as  the  tug  began  to  move. 

uOh !  don't  you  fellers  git  the  big  head  too  bad," 
was  the  answer.  "I've  got  somethin'  better  to  do 
than  roost  down  here.  But  there'll  be  other  callers; 
don't  forgit  that.  You  little  two-for-a-cent  beach- 
combers can't  beat  the  Boston  Salvage  Company  so 
easy." 

"Chuck  us  a  tintype  of  yourself  to  remember  you 
by,"  yelled  Bill  Taylor. 

"Tell  your  sister  not  to  worry  about  me,"  shouted 
Alvin  Bearse.  "I'll  write  pretty  soon." 

And  Peleg,  prompted  by  Mr.  Small,  brought  out 
his  concertina  and  played  "Good-bye,  Sweetheart, 
Good-bye,"  with  agonizing  pathos. 

Captain  Ezra  sent  a  final  hail  after  the  snorting 
towboat. 

"You  tell  Mr.  Cook,"  he  shouted,  "that  the  longer 
he  lets  that  chain  lay  where  'tis  the  worse  it'll  sand. 
In  a  month  it'll  be  covered  in  so  you  can't  git  up 
more'n  ha'f  of  it.  Tell  him  to  wire  us  when  he  gits 
ready  to  pay  our  price.  And  say!"  he  added;  "don't 
forgit  to  tell  him  to  prepay  the  message." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


MR.    COOK  WIRES. 

AFTER  that  both  sides  stood  pat  for  a  time. 
Cook  and  Son,   although  they  sent  no 
more  tugs,  did  not  wire,  as  the  Captain 
had  suggested,   and  the  anchor  and  chain  lay  un- 
touched on  the  bottom,  with  the  Lizzie's  buoy  floating 
above,  and  the  tide-driven  sand  sifting  steadily  over 
the  great  iron  links. 

The  partners  went  dragging  for  other  anchors. 
At  the  end  of  a  week,  Captain  Titcomb  hinted  that  it 
might  be  a  good  idea  to  telephone  the  Liberty's 
owners  and  ask  if  they  were  ready  to  trade.  But 
Bradley  was  firm. 

247 


248  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

"No,"  he  said;  "we  can  stick  it  out  as  long  as  they 


can." 


The  Captain  grinned  admiringly.  "Brad,"  he 
said;  "you've  got  more  nerve  than  I  have;  I  swan  if 
you  ain't !  When  I  think  of  us  two  buckin'  up  against 
a  concern  that  owns  twenty-two  vessels,  I  give  in  it 
gives  me  the  palsy  in  my  knees.  But  go  it,  son !  I'll 
stand  behind  you  till  all's  blue." 

The  next  move  in  the  game  came  from  an  unex- 
pected quarter.  The  Captain  and  Bradley  had  just 
landed  one  evening,  after  a  day  on  the  shoals,  when 
Obed  Nickerson  came  strolling  down  the  wharf  to 
meet  them. 

"Hello!"  he  said.  "Haven't  seen  you  fellers  for 
some  time.  Coin'  to  walk  up  to  the  village?  Don't 
know  but  I'll  go  with  you;  I  need  a  little  exercise." 

This  seemed  a  trifle  odd,  for  sleek,  easy-going 
Obed  wasn't  fond  of  walking;  as  a  usual  thing  he 
preferred  to  drive  one  of  his  fast  horses.  As  Captain 
Titcomb  said,  later:  "You  didn't  need  to  smell  bait 
to  know  somebody  was  goin'  fishinV 

They  walked  on,  talking  town  politics  and  gossip. 
No  one  mentioned  business  until  the  underwriters' 
agent  said,  casually:  "Well,  how's  things  goin'?  Got 
up  that  barge  anchor  yit?" 

"Not  yet,"  replied  Bradley. 

"Humph!  'Twill  be  pretty  badly  sanded  if  you 
let  it  lay  much  longer,  won't  it?  Why  don't  you  fel- 
lers write  to  the  Salvage  Company?  I  understand 
the  job  was  given  to  them.  I  don't  imagine  either 
you  or  they  want  any  lawyers  mixed  up  in  it.  I 


MR.  COOK  WIRES  249 

shouldn't  be  s'prised  if  they'd  be  willin'  to  meet  you 
ha'f  way  in  a  dicker." 

Captain  Titcomb  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground. 
"What  makes  you  think  so?"  he  asked. 

"Oh  1  nothin'  special.  But  I'd  write  'em  if  I  was 
you."  j 

"Hum!  You  couldn't  do  it  for  us,  could  you, 
Obed?" 

"Why,  I  don't  know.  Maybe  I  could.  I  know 
'em  pretty  well.  Now  s'pose — only  s'pose,  of  course 
— that  I  could  fix  this  thing  up;  what's  the  low- 
est terms  that  you'd  raise  that  anchor  and  chain 
for?" 

Then  the  Captain  looked  up  and  laughed,  like  one 
who  has  solved  a  riddle.  "That's  Brad's  job,"  he 
said.  "Ask  him,  Obed." 

"Well,"  said  Bradley,  with  his  hands  in  his 
pockets.  "We'll  raise  that  anchor  and  what  we  can 
get  of  the  chain  for  five  hundred  dollars.  That's  our 
price." 

"Oh!  now  what's  the  use?  They  won't  pay  that, 
and " 

"Look  here !"  broke  in  Captain  Titcomb,  "I've  had 
some  dealin's,  afloat  and  ashore,  with  this  young,/ 
feller,"  laying  his  hand  on  his  partner's  shoulder/ 
"and  I've  found  that,  when  his  mind's  made  up,  he's 
a  kind  of  combination  of  mule  and  the  Rock  of  Ages. 
'Twon't  do,  Obed.  You  write  to  the  Salvage  Com- 
pany or  Cook  and  Son,  or  whoever  set  you  on  this 
tack,  and  tell  'em  that  Titcomb  and  Nickerson  are 
little,  but  oh  my !  Tell  'em  that  that  chain's  sandin' 


250  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

and  settlin'  every  day,  but  that,  if  we  have  to  wait  till 
the  other  end  sticks  out  in  China  and  makes  a  clothes- 
line for  the  heathen  in  his  blindness,  there  she  stays 
till  they  come  to  time.  No  hard  f  eelin's  to  you,  Obed, 
and  sorry  you  had  your  walk  for  nothin'." 

The  underwriters'  agent  was  momentarily  embar- 
rassed; then  he  laughed. 

"All  right,"  he  said.  "You  mustn't  git  the  idea 
that  there's  anything  in  this  for  me.  I  only " 

"I  know.  You  only  done  it  to  oblige,  like  the 
feller  that  fetched  the  rat  poison  to  his  mother-in- 
law  when  she  said  he  made  her  sick  of  life.  We 
understand.  Good-bye." 

The  partners  were  considerably  encouraged  by  this 
interview.  They  argued  that  Cook  and  Son  were  get- 
ting nervous. 

That  evening  Bradley  and  the  old  maids  were  in 
the  sitting-room.  Miss  Prissy  was  much  better  and 
had,  for  the  first  time,  donned  a  wrapper  and  come 
downstairs  to  sit  in  the  big  rocker.  Miss  Tempy  was 
reading  aloud  to  her,  and  Clara  was  in  the  kitchen 
washing  the  supper  dishes. 

fc*  'The  Earl  bent  his  proud  head,'  "  read  Miss 
Tempy,  u  'and  gazed  into  the  clear  blue  orbs  that  meti 
his  own.  "Claire,"  he  murmured,  in  a  deep,  rich  tone 
that  vibrated  through  the  heavy  air  of  the  gloomy 
cavern;  "Claire,  my  beautiful!  my  own!  poor  and 
humble  your  station  on  earth  may  have  been,  but 
henceforth,  if  we  escape  from  the  lurid  flames  of 
yonder  volcano  and  the  cruel  blades  of  the  merciless 
buccaneers,  you  shall  no  longer  be  the  peasant  maid, 


MR.  COOK  WIRES  251 

but  my  bride,  my  wife,  mistress  of  Castle  Craggy- 
knoll;  the  peerless- 

uWhat's  that?"  she  exclaimed,  breaking  off  sud- 
denly. 

"What's  what?"  asked  her  sister,  drowsily. 

"Seems  to  me  I  heard  somebody  in  the  kitchen." 

"Clara  is  there,  isn't  she?"  queried  Bradley. 

"Yes,  but — I  thought — yes,  there's  somebody  else. 
I  do  b'lieve  it's  a  man !  You  don't  s'pose  she's  got  a 
beau?  I'm  goin' to  see." 

And,  before  the  others  could  remonstrate,  she  put 
the  Comforter  on  the  table  and  started  for  the  kit- 
chen. They  heard  her  cross  the  dining-room  and 
open  the  door.  Then  came  an  exclamation. 

"Why!  why!"  she  cried;  and  then,  "Well,  I  do 
declare!" 

"What  do  you  s'pose  'tis?"  asked  Miss  Prissy,  now 
thoroughly  awake.  The  kitchen  door  had  swung  to, 
but  there  was  a  great  clatter  of  voices  behind  it.  Miss 
Tempy  was  exclaiming  and  arguing;  Clara,  apparent- 
ly, was  saying  very  little,  and  a  third  person,  in  a 
deep  bass  rumble,  was  explaining  something  or  other. 

"Land  of  goodness!"  cried  Miss  Prissy,  "I  hope 
it  ain't  the  minister,  and  me  in  this  old  wrapper." 

The  kitchen  door  was  opened,  Miss  Tempy  ap- 
peared beaming,  and  there  followed  her  into  the  sit- 
ting-room no  less  a  personage  than  Captain  Ezra 
Titcomb.  The  Captain's  face  was  the  least  bid  red- 
der than  usual,  but  he  was  otherwise  as  suave  and 
unmoved  as  if  the  time  of  his  previous  call  had  been 
but  yesterday  instead  of  four  years  before. 


252  PAR  TNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

"Well,  Prissy!"  he  said,  shaking  hands  with  the 
invalid,  "how  are  you  to-night?  'Most  ready  to  come 
on  deck  and  take  command?  No,  don't  git  up. 
Evenin',  Brad." 

Poor  Miss  Prissy!  She  patted  her  tumbled  hair 
into  the  most  presentable  shape  possible,  hurriedly 
pulled  the  red  and  white  knitted  "Afghan"  over  the 
wrapper,  and  managed  to  gasp  that  she  was  glad  to 
see  the  Captain.  Then  she  sat  still  and  stared  re- 
proachfully at  Miss  Tempy. 

But  that  lady  was  too  excited  to  notice  her  sister's 
agitation.  She  fluttered  about  the  visitor  like  a  hen 
with  one  chicken,  trying  to  hang  up  his  hat,  dropping 
it,  blushing  violently  as  she  collided  with  him  in  the 
attempt  to  pick  it  up,  and  generally  behaving,  as  Miss 
Prissy  said  afterwards,  like  a  a  born  gump. 

"Set  right  down,  Cap'n,"  she  pleaded.  "We're 
reel  glad  to  see  you.  What  made  you  come  to  the 
kitchen  door?  I  couldn't  think  who  'twas;  could  you, 
Prissy?  Oh,  my  sakes!" 

In  her  nervous  haste  she  had  pushed  forward  the 
big  armchair  that  had  once  been  the  throne  of  Captain 
Darius,  but  which,  owing  to  the  infirmities  of  age, 
had  for  some  time  been  kept  in  the  corner  for  show 
purposes  only.  It  had  a  weak  leg,  and,  when  Captain 
Titcomb  planted  himself  upon  the  worn  black  oil- 
cloth cushion,  the  infirm  member  promptly  bent 
inward  and  the  Captain  slid  gracefully  to  the 
floor. 

"Tempy!"  exclaimed  Miss  Prissy,  in  a  freezing 
tone.  Bradley  laughed  and  ran  to  assist  the  fallen 


MR.  COOK  WIRES  253 

one.  Miss  Tempy,  now  in  a  perfectly  helpless  state, 
wrung  her  hands  and  stuttered. 

"The  idea  of  givin'  him  father's  chair!"  cried  Miss 
Prissy.  "Tempy,  have  you  gone  loony?  I  hope  you 
ain't  hurt,  Cap'n  Ezra?  We  never  use  that  chair 
now.  It  used  to  belong  to  father." 

Miss  Tempy  was  heard  to  remark,  feebly,  that  it 
looked  "so  like  him."  She  declared  afterwards  that 
she  didn't  say  it. 

The  Captain  made  light  of  the  accident  and  se- 
lected another  seat,  carefully  testing  it  beforehand. 
He  at  once  began  to  talk  about  the  weather  and  Miss 
Prissy's  illness.  But  the  older  sister  interrupted  him 
as  soon  as  the  opportunity  offered. 

"What  made  you  come  to  the  back  door?"  she 
asked. 

There  wasn't  an  instant's  hesitancy  in  the  Captain's 
reply: 

"Oh!"  he  said,  lightly,  "it's  rainin'  a  little  and  I 
thought  I  wouldn't  muss  up  them  floors  of  yours.  I 
know  them  floors  of  old,"  he  added,  and  laughed 
heartily.  He  continued  to  talk  about  the  floors  and 
seemed  to  think  his  fear  of  soiling  them  a  great  joke. 
Miss  Tempy,  who  was  a  trifle  more  rational  by  this 
time,  laughed  with  him,  but  Miss  Prissy  seemed  still 
curious. 

"You  used  to  come  to  the  dinin'-room  door,  even 
when  it  snowed,"  she  said. 

"Yes,  but  I  had  on  my  sea-boots  this  time  and 
they're  so  big  I  tote  ha'f  the  road  along  with  me.  Re- 
minds me,"  he  added,  hastily,  just  in  time  to  cut  off 


254  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

another  question,  "of  what  the  old  man — my  dad,  I 
mean — said  about  a  colored  cook  he  had  aboard  his 
ship  once.  Dad  said  that  darky's  feet  was  the  largest 
live  things  without  lungs  that  he  ever  saw  out  of 
water." 

,  Bradley  thought  he  had  never  seen  his  partner  so 
willing,  even  anxious,  to  monopolize  the  entire  con- 
versation as  he  was  that  evening.  He  cracked  jokes 
and  spun  yarns  without  stopping  to  rest.  Clara  came 
in,  after  a  little,  and  seated  herself  quietly  on  the  sofa. 
She,  too,  seemed  a  trifle  nervous,  but  the  sisters  did, 
not  notice  it.  They  were  hypnotized  by  their  caller's 
lively  tongue,  and  laughed  like  girls.  Miss  Prissy 
grew  more  like  herself  every  minute. 

"Don't  go,  Cap'n,"  she  pleaded,  as  the  visitor 
pulled  out  his  watch  and  rose  from  the  chair.  "I  de- 
clare !  you're  better'n  the  doctor !" 

"Much  obliged,  Prissy,  but  'twas  too  much  of  a 
good  thing  that  busted  the  cider  jug.  Two  opposition 
doctors  in  one  house  would  be  like  the  two  Irishmen 
fightin'  for  the  pig — 'twas  an  'ilegant  row'  while  it 
lasted,  but  it  killed  the  pig.  No,  I  must  be  gittin'  on. 
I  left  my  umbrella  out  in  the  kitchen.  Clara,  bring 
the  lamp,  will  you,  please?" 

Clara  rose  and  started  for  the  kitchen,  but  Miss 
Tempy  intercepted  her. 

"/'//  git  your  umbrella,  Cap'n,"  she  said. 

uNo,  no !  you  set  still.  Clara  knows  jest  where  'tis; 
she  put  it  away." 

"Well,  I  guess  I  can  find  it.  You  needn't  come, 
Clara.  Yes,  here  'tis.  Good  night,  Cap'n  Titcomb. 


MR.  COOK  WIRES  255 

I — I  hope,  now  you've  found  the  way,  you'll  call 
again  some  evenin'.  Bradley'll  be  glad  to  see  you 
and  so  will  Prissy  and — and  I.  You've  done  her  a 
world  of  good.  Good  night." 

The  Captain  walked  briskly  down  to  the  gate. 
Then,  as  the  door  closed  behind  him,  he  paused, 
wiped  his  forehead  with  his  coatsleeve,  and  drew  a 
long  breath. 

There  was  jubilation  in  the  old  maids'  room  that 
night. 

Obed  Nickerson  must  have  been  prompt  in  com- 
municating to  the  Salvage  Company,  or  Cook  and 
Son,  the  news  of  the  failure  of  his  attempted  negotia- 
tions with  the  partners,  for  on  Tuesday  of  the  follow- 
ing week  this  telegram  came : 

"BRADLEY  NICKERSON,  Orham,  Mass. 
"Come  my  office  immediately. 

ALPHEUS  COOK." 

"Humph!"  grunted  Captain  Titcomb;  "short  and 
crisp,  like  the  old  woman's  pie-crust,  ain't  it  ?  Well, 
Brad,  I  guess  you'd  better  go." 

Bradley  agreed  with  him  and,  once  more,  he  hur- 
ried home  to  pack  his  grip.  But  this  time  he  took 
care  to  tell  Gus.  She  rejoiced  with  him  over  the 
triumph  they  both  felt  sure  was  coming. 

"You're  succeeding,  Brad,"  she  said.  "Everybody 
is  talking  about  it.  I'm  prouder  of  you  than  ever." 

"But  when  will  you  be  willing  to  have  me  tell 


256  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

people  that  we're  engaged?    Mayn't  I  do  that  now, 
Gus?" 

She  paused,  and  his  hopes  rose ;  but  then  she  shook 
her  head.  "It  wouldn't  be  fair  to  you,"  she  said. 
"Sometimes  I  feel  that  I  almost — well,  like  you 
enough  to  be  content  to  stay  in  Orham  all  my  life  and 
work  for  you  and  with  you.  I'm  trying  hard  to  feel 
that  way.  But  at  other  times  it  seems  as  if  I  must 
get  away  to  where  the  people  talk  of  something  be- 
side their  neighbors'  affairs;  where  there  are  great 
things  being  done  and  where  the  world  moves.  You 
think  I'm  inconsistent,  don't  you?" 

"No,  it  is  dull  down  here,  and  most  of  the  folks 
are  rather  narrow,  I'm  afraid.  Gus,  you  know  what 
my  business  means  to  me.  Well,  if  it  will  please  you, 
and  if  you'll  come  with  me,  I'll  give  it  all  up,  even 
now,  and  go  back  to  the  city  and  try  it  there." 

She  smiled  tenderly.  "You're  a  dear,  good  boy," 
she  said;  "but  do  you  suppose  I  should  ever  be  happy 
again  if  I  let  you  do  that?" 

The  railway  journey  to  Boston  had  only  one  inci- 
dent worth  notice.  At  Buzzards  Bay  the  Boston 
train  meets  that  bound  down  the  Cape.  There  was 
some  delay  at  the  station  and  Bradley  stepped  out  on 
the  platform.  He  was  walking  up  and  down  smoking 
when  somebody  shouted,  "Hello,  Brad  Nickerson! 
what  are  you  doing  here?" 

Brad  turned  and  saw  Sam  Hammond. 

"Well!"  he  exclaimed,  shaking  hands  with  his  old 
seat-mate.  "Where  are  you  bound — Orham?" 

"Yup.    How  is  the  old  graveyard,  anyway?" 


MR.  COOK  WIRES  257 

"Pretty  quiet  just  now.  Most  of  the  summer  folks 
have  gone  home.  You  on  another  vacation  ?" 

Sam  laughed.  "Kind  of  vacation  a  fellow  hands 
out  to  himself,"  he  answered.  "The  Wrecking  Com- 
pany and  I  had  a  row;  they  tried  to  put  ten  men's 
work  on  me  and  I  wouldn't  stand  for  it.  So  I  told 
'em  to  go  to  the  devil.  It  put  'em  in  a  hole,  all  right, 
but  nobody's  going  to  walk  on  my  neck,  if  I  know  it. 
I'm  going  home  to*  loaf  for  a  while — I  need  a  rest 
anyway.  Then  I'll  go  back  to  New  York  and  hook 
on  with  another  crowd.  There's  plenty  of  Jem  want 
me,  but  they  can  wait.  How's  all  the  girls?  Gus 
Baker  pretty  well?'* 

They  talked  for  a  few  minutes  longer.  Sam  asked 
how  the  anchor-dragging  trust  was  getting  on.  Then 
the  two  trains  started.  Bradley  leaned  back  in  his 
seat  in  the  smoker  and  meditated.  Somehow  a  con- 
versation with  Sam  always  made  him  "blue."  He 
wished  the  fellow  was  not  going  to  Orham. 

Next  morning,  bright  and  early,  he  walked  into  the 
"coal  king's"  office.  The  important  young  man  with 
the  pen  behind  his  ear  disdained  to  recognize  him. 

"Who'd  you  wish  to  see?"  he  asked,  after  a  dig- 
nified interval. 

"Mr.  Cook — the  older  one,"  answered  Bradley. 

"He's  busy  now.  Likely  to  be  busy  all  the  morn- 
ing. What  do  you  want  to  see  him  for?  Won't  I 
do?" 

"Don't  know,  I'm  sure,"  replied  the  wrecker, 
gravely.  "I'll  speak  to  Mr.  Cook  about  it.  You  see, 
he  was  the  one  that  sent  for  me,  so " 


258  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

"He  sent  for  you !  Oh!  excuse  me.  I  wish  you'd 
said  so  sooner.  Sit  down,  please.  What  name,  sir?" 

"Nickerson — sir." 

The  young  man,  much  less  important,  hurried  into 
another  room,  and  returned  at  once. 

uMr.  Cook'll  see  you,  sir,"  he  said,  opening  the 
gate.  "Step  right  into  his  private  office,  Mr.  Nicker- 
son. Say,"  he  added,  in  a  whisper,  "maybe  you'd 
better  not  mention  that  I  wanted  you  to  talk  to  me." 

The  great  Mr.  Cook  was  seated  behind  his  big 
carved  desk.  The  whole  outfit  looked  rather  formid- 
able. He  stared  at  Bradley  over  his  glasses. 

"Sit  down,"  he  commanded.  "Got  my  wire,  I  sup- 
pose?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Humph !  Yes.  Well,  have  you  fellows  got  tired 
of  keeping  me  from  recovering  my  property  yet?" 

"What  property?" 

'  "Oh,  be  hanged !  You  know  what  property  I  mean. 
Are  you  ready  to  let  the  Salvage  Company  take  up 
that  anchor  youVe  got  buoyed?" 

"No,  sir." 

"When  will  you  be?" 
"Never,"  was  the  smiling  answer. 
"Humph !"    Mr.  Cook  wheeled  round  in  his  chair. 
"I  suppose  you  realize,  young  man,"  he  said,   im- 
pressively, "that  this  concern  of  ours  could  send  down 
tugs  and  men  enough  to  snake  that  anchor  and  chain 
right  out  of  your  hands.     You  understand  that,  do 


you?" 


'Yes,  sir,  I  understand  it." 


MR.  COOK  WIRES  259 

"Then  what's  to  prevent  our  doing  it?" 

"I  don't  believe  you  want  a  lawsuit." 

"Lawsuit !  Why,  Nickerson,  look  here !  I've  got 
lawsuits  on  my  hands  now  that  make  anything  you 
could  bring  up  look  like  thirty  cents.  And  my  law- 
yers could  fight  you  through  court  after  court  till  you 
were  milked  dry.  What  chance  would  you  have 
against  our  money?" 

"Not  much,  sir.  But,  Mr.  Cook,  is  it  worth  the 
trouble  and  what  it'll  cost  you?" 

The  "coal  king's"  manner  changed.  He  leaned 
back  in  his  chair  and  actually  grinned. 

"For  a  'longshoreman,"  he  observed,  "you're  not 
so  slow.  No,  it  isn't  worth  the  trouble,  to  say  noth- 
ing of  the  money  and  those  confounded  nuisances, 
lawyers.  There's  been  more  valuable  time  and  breath 
wasted  on  this  fool  thing  now  than  the  eight  or  nine 
hundred  dollars  it  cost  comes  to.  Why  don't  you  see 
the  Salvage  Company  and  make  a  trade  with  them? 
They're  about  sick  of  it,  too." 

"I'd  rather  trade  direct  with  you." 

Mr.  Cook  patted  his  desk  with  his  pencil.  Then 
he  glanced  at  the  clock. 

"Oh,  pshaw!"  he  exclaimed,  testily.  "Well, 
what's  your  lowest  price  delivered  on  the  Orham 
wharf?  Lowest,  mind!  no  trimmings!" 

"Five  hundred  dollars." 

"All  right,  you  may  take  it  up.  I'll  give  you  four 
hundred  cash  for  the  job.  Go  ahead,  and  work 
quick.  Good-day,  Nickerson;  glad  to  have  met 
you." 


260  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

He  swung  around  to  the  desk  and  picked  up  some 
papers.  But  Bradley  did  not  go. 

"Excuse  me,  Mr.  Cook,"  he  said.  uOur  figure 
was  five  hundred,  not  four." 

"Humph!  Well,  five's  robbery.  Four's  what  I'll 
pay." 

"All  right,  sir.  Sorry  we  can't  trade.  Good  morn- 
ing." 

"Hold  on  there!"  shouted  the  owner  of  the  Lib- 
erty. "Do  you  mean  you  won't  raise  the  anchor?" 

"Not  for  less  than  five  hundred." 

"Split  the  difference;  make  it  four-fifty?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Oh,  well,  hang  it !  go  ahead.  Five  hundred,  then 
^— only  don't  bother  me  any  more." 

But  Bradley  still  hesitated.  "There  is  just  one 
thing  more,  Mr.  Cook,"  he  said.  "That  chain  has 
sanded  in  every  day  since  it  has  been  on  that  bottom. 
We  may  not  be  able  to  get  up  the  whole  of  it.  We 
warned  your  tugboat  skipper  when  he  was  down. 
We'll  do  our  best,  though." 

"Oh !  you'll  get  it.  I'd  be  willing  to  bet  that  you'd 
get  up  the  everlasting  foundations  if  you  made  up 
your  mind  to.  Say,  Nickerson !"  Mr.  Cook  put  his 
hands  in  his  pockets  and  looked  quizzically  at  Brad- 
ley; "I  guess  I  owe  you  an  apology.  I  said,  when  you 
were  here  before,  that  you  couldn't  bluff  me.  Well, 
it  looks  as  if  you  could.  Any  more  at  the  Cape  like 
you?" 

Bradley  laughed.    "Shouldn't  wonder,"  he  said. 

"Don't  want  a  job,  do  you?" 


MR.  COOK  WIRES  261 

"No,  sir;  not  at  present,  thank  you.  That  is,  noth- 
ing but  wrecking  jobs.  Anything  in  that  line  you 
can  throw  in  our  way  we  should  appreciate." 

"I'll  remember  it.  If  you  get  sick  of  anchor-drag- 
ging any  time,  come  and  see  me.  Have  a  cigar  to 
smoke  as  you  go  along.  Good-day." 

The  young  man  with  the  pen,  now  very  polite, 
bowed  Bradley  out  of  the  gate.  The  junior  partner 
was  happy.  He  felt  that  not  only  had  the  wisdom  of 
his  course  in  the  matter  of  the  Liberty's  anchor  been 
proven,  but  that  when  Cook  and  Son  should  have 
future  wTrecking  contracts  to  give  out,  Titcomb  and 
Nickerson  might  be  considered  as  bidders  to  be  reck- 
oned with. 


THE  "SUBSCRIPTION  BALL/' 


{{/*•*%  HERE  !"  exclaimed  Captain  Titcomb,  ten 

days  later,  when  the  last  section  of  the 

J^          Liberty's  chain  had  been  laid  on  Orham 

wharf ;  "there !  that  child's  born  and  his 

name's  Adoniram !     Now,  then,  Brad,  what  next — 

more  anchor-draggin'  ?" 

Getting  up  that  chain  with  a  hand  windlass  was  a 
tough  proposition,  but  they  had  done  it  finally.  The 
calm  weather  helped  them  here,  for  though  the  heavy 
links  had  sanded  somewhat,  they  managed  to  work 
the  last  one  loose  after  a  struggle.  Again  the  part-  > 
ners  had  longed  for  the  much  talked-of  schooner  witn 
an  engine,  but  this  time  it  was  Bradley  who  did  most 
of  the  complaining.  The  Captain  merely  looked  wise 
and  winked  knowingly.  "Keep  your  head  to  wind- 
'ard,  son,"  he  remarked.  "Maybe  I'll  have  a  s'prise 


THE  "SUBSCRIPTION  BALL"        263 

party  for  you  some  of  these  days."  Bradley  didn't 
know  what  he  meant  and  the  Captain  wouldn't  ex- 
plain. 

In  reply  to  the  question  concerning  what  was  to 
be  done  next,  the  junior  partner,  who  was  sitting  on 
an  overturned  salt-mackerel  tub  aboard  the  Lizzie, 
asked  a  question  in  his  turn. 

"Cap'n  Ez,"  he  said,  "do  you  remember  that 
schooner  loaded  with  tar  that  foundered  on  the  flats 
off  Caleb's  Point  last  March?  The  one  we  located 
when  we  were  dragging  for  Anderson's  anchor  that 
time?" 

Captain  Titcomb  nodded.  "Yup,"  he  said.  "She 
b'longed  to  a  Boston  firm,  seems  to  me.  Let's  see — 
what  was  their  names  ?" 

"Colton,  Lee  and  Company.  They  are  on  Com- 
mercial Street.  Well,  I  went  in  to  see  'em  when  I  was 
up  to  Boston." 

"You  did?" 

"Yes.  That  tar  has  stuck  in  my  mind  ever  since 
you  told  me  about  it.  It  was  in  barrels,  you  see,  and 
it's  harder  than  Pharaoh's  heart  naturally,  so  the  salt 
water  hasn't  had  time  to  hurt  it  any  to  speak  of. 
Obed  told  me  that  the  schooner  was  insured  and  the 
cargo  wasn't.  So  I  thought  I'd  go  in  and  see  the 
owners.  Well,  they'd  pretty  nearly  forgotten  about 
the  tar — I  suppose  it  had  been  charged  to  profit  and 
loss  long  ago.  We  talked  and  I  told  'em  that  I 
might,  perhaps,  be  able  to  save  a  few  barrels — only 
a  few,  of  course.  The  upshot  of  it  all  was  that  I 
bought  the  whole  cargo,  eight  hundred  and  forty  bar- 


264  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

rels,  just  as  it  lies  on  the  botton,  for  twenty-five  dol- 
lars cash." 

"You  didn't?" 

"I  did.  It  was  twenty-five  dollars  more  than  they 
ever  expected  to  get,  at  that.  Now,  Cap'n,  our  agree- 
ment was  that  no  new  move  should  be  entered  into 
without  the  consent  of  both  partners.  This  deal  was 
so  'all  in  the  air,'  as  you  might  say,  that  I  didn't  say 
anything  about  it  until  I'd  seen  the  owners.  Now,  if 
you  feel  that  we  can't  raise  enough  of  the  stuff  to  pay 
for  the  trouble,  I'll  let  the  twenty-five  come  out  of 
my  pocket  and  call  it  a  fine  for  being  too  smart." 

"You  shan't  do  no  such  thing!  We  can  git  out 
enough  of  that  tar  to  make  that  up  twice  over,  even 
with  the  back-number  rig  we've  got.  But  if  we  had 
a  divin'  kit  and  a  diver,  I'd  be  willin'  to  bet  we  could 
save  two  or  three  hundred  barrels,  maybe  more." 

"That's  what  I  thought.  So  I  spent  nearly  three 
hours  cruising  up  and  down  Atlantic  Avenue  and  rum- 
maging in  ship  stores  and  such  places.  And,  Cap'n 
Ezra,  I  know  where  we  can  buy  a  complete  fit-out 
second-hand — pumps,  pipes,  diver's  suit  and  the 
whole  business,  in  Ai  shape,  so  far  as  I  can  see — for 
three  hundred  and  fifty  dollars.  Just  for  a  flyer  I 
paid  ten  dollars  and  got  an  option  on  it  for  a  week." 

"No?  you  didn't?  Brad  Nickerson,  here's  where 
the  old  man  takes  his  hat  off.  You've  got  me  beat, 
hull  down.  I'll  be  askin'  you  for  a  mate's  job  yit. 
Three  hundred  and  fifty !  Dirt,  dog  cheap  !" 

"I'm  glad  you  feel  that  way,  Cap'n.  Of  course  a 
diver'll  be  expensive.  The  Salvage  Company  will 


THE  "SUBSCRIPTION  BALL"        265 

charge  us  anywhere  from  fifteen  to  twenty  dollars 
a  day  for  a  good  one.  And  there's  where  I'm  afraid 
the  whole  speculation  falls  down.  We  don't  know 
how  that  tar  lies,  whether  the  hull's  broken  up, 
whether  the  barrels  are  sanded  over  or  not.  It  might 
take  so  long  to  get  it  out  that  we'd  lose  money." 

The  Captain,  with  both  hands  jammed  into  his 
pockets — his  beckets,  he  called  them — was  pacing  up 
and  down. 

"Lay  to,  son,"  he  observed,  shortly,  uand  let  your 
hair  grow.  You've  landed  nine-tenths  of  this  deal 
already;  let  me  handle  t'other  tenth.  I  have  a  sneak- 
in'  notion  that  I  can  git  that  diver  cheap  enough  to 
make  it  worth  while.  No,  I  shan't  say  anything  more 
jest  now.  You  wait." 

But  the  next  morning  he  greeted  his  partner  with 
jubilation. 

"IVe  got  your  diver,  boy!"  he  cried.  "That  is, 
I've  got  him  if  you  say  the  word.  Five  dollars  a  day, 
too,  instead  of  fifteen." 

"Where  in  the  world " 

"Right  here  in  Orham.  And  he's  had  plenty  of  ex- 
perience. What's  the  matter  with  Sam  Hammond?" 

"Sam  Hammond!  Sam — Why,  Cap'n  Ez,  what 
are  you  talking  about?  Sam  told  me  himself  that 
he'd  come  home  to  rest.  He's  going  back  to  New 
York  in  a  little  while.  He  wouldn't  work  for  us!" 

"Wouldn't,  hey?  Brad,  'twas  the  feller  with  one 
leg  that  was  too  religious  to  dance.  Sam's  out  of  a 
job.  Maybe  he  fired  the  boss;  maybe  the  boss  fired 
him.  All  I  know  is  that  he  told  me  last  night  he'd 


266  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

dive  for  us  at  five  dollars  per.  'Course  he'd  only  do  it 
to  help  us  out,  but  that's  all  right;  I  don't  care  if 
there's  a  hole  in  the  bag  so  long's  the  cookies  are  in- 
side." 

Bradley  was  silent.  He  didn't  like  the  idea  of 
having  Sam  as  a  shipmate.  There  were  other  reasons 
as  well,  and  these  the  wily  Captain  may  have  guessed, 
for  he  said: 

"Now,  Brad,  of  course  it's  for  you  to  say.  We 
couldn't  git  another  good  man  so  cheap,  but  never 
mind  that.  Sam  is  a  great  feller  for  the  girls,  and 
they  seem  to  like  him  pretty  well.  I  s'pose  he'd  be 
cuttin'  out  some  beau  or  other,  and  then  we'd  have 
trouble  on  our  hands.  Not  that  that  would  hurt  you 
any,  except  in  a  way,  but " 

Bradley  interrupted  him  sharply.  The  hint  roused 
his  pride.  "Oh!  I  don't  care,"  he  said.  "Hire  him, 
if  you  want  to.  Only,  I'm  surprised  that  he's  willing 
to  come." 

And  so  that  is  how  Mr.  Samuel  Hammond,  late  of 
the  Metropolitan  Wrecking  Company  of  New  York, 
came  to  enter  the  employ  of  Titcomb  and  Nickerson, 
to  whom  he  had  contemptuously  referred  as  "anchor- 
draggers."  But  if  Bradley  supposed  for  a  moment 
that  Sam  would  change  his  patronizing  attitude  be- 
cause of  the  move,  he  was  much  mistaken.  Mr. 
Hammond  laughed  when  he  boarded  the  Lizzie, 
asked  facetiously  if  "this  was  the  vessel  or  only  the 
long  boat?"  and  poked  fun  at  the  whole  outfit  gen- 
erally. He  gave  each  member  of  the  crew  to  under- 
stand that  he  was  only  doing  this  for  a  while,  to  help 


THE  "SUBSCRIPTION  BALL"        267 

out  Brad.  He  said  that  puttering  around  this  way 
was  such  a  change  for  him  that  it  was  the  best  fun  of 
his  vacation. 

He  took  pains  to  make  his  position  plain  in  the 
minds  of  the  townspeople.  Captain  Jabez  Bailey  told 
Bradley,  in  a  confidential  whisper:  "It's  mighty  good 
of  Sam  to  turn  to  and  help  you  and  Ez  out  of  a  hole. 
I  hope  you  appreciate  it."  Bradley  said  he  appre- 
ciated it  fully. 

Even  Gus  was  inclined  to  view  the  matter  in  that 
light.  Sam  saw  to  it  that  she  did.  He  called  at  the 
Baker  homestead  pretty  often,  and  when  Bradley  was 
there  treated  the  latter  in  a  jolly,  good-fellow  sort  of 
way  that  couldn't  well  be  resented,  but  which  had  al- 
ways in  it  that  aggravating  flavor  of  pitying  patron- 
age. 

Bradley  felt  that  he  was  placed  in  an  awkward  and 
humiliating  position.  He  told  Gus  so  plainly. 

"Guss"  he  said,  "the  last  time  we  talked  on  this 
matter  you  spoke  of  'treating  me  fairly.'  Do  you 
think  it's  fair  to  allow  Sam  to  call  here  as  he  does  ?" 

A  more  experienced  ladies'  man — Captain  Tit- 
comb,  for  instance — would  not  have  selected  this  par- 
ticular evening  to  bring  up  this  particular  subject. 
Gus  was  in  one  of  her  uncertain  moods.  She  had  re- 
fused to  be  serious  before,  and  she  was  not  serious 
now. 

"Why,  Bradley  Nickerson!"  she  exclaimed,  with 
a  laugh,  "I  do  believe  you're  jealous!" 

"No,  I'm  not  jealous,  exactly.  But  why  do  you  let 
him  come  here?" 


268  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

"You  are  jealous!  Oh,,  dear  me!  I  didn't  believe 
you  had  that  sort  of  a  disposition.  Why  do  I  let  him 
come  here?  What  shall  I  do?  Lock  the  door  and 
scream  'I've  gone  out!'  the  way  old  Cap'n  Pepper 
did  when  the  tax  collector  called?" 

"Oh,  be  serious,  please!" 

"All  right !  Let's  be  very  serious.  Sam  calls  here, 
I  suppose,  because  he  and  I  have  always  been  friends 
and  we're  friends  now.  I  don't  invite  him,  but  I  can't 
very  well  tell  him  to  stay  away.  He  doesn't  know 
that  you  and  I  are  engaged — or  partially  engaged — 
and " 

"That's  just  it !  If  you  will  only  let  me  tell  people 
of  our  engagement  then  he  can't  call  any  more.  May 
I,  Gus?" 

"Brad,  don't  you  trust  me?" 

"Of  course  I  trust  you." 

"Then  why  are  you  suspicious  or  what  are  you 
afraid  of?" 

This  very  direct  question  was  embarrassing.  Brad- 
ley felt  certain  that  he  had  good  reason  to  be  sus- 
picious of  Hammond's  intentions,  but  he  knew  he 
had  no  actual  proof  that  would  warrant  his  saying 
so.  He  stammered,  and  could  reply  only  that  he 
tdidn't  like  the  fellow's  calling  so  often. 

"I  don't  see,"  said  Gus,  "why  you  dislike  Sam  so. 
He  never  mentions  your  name  without  praising  you. 
He  thinks  you  are  doing  wonderfully  well." 

Bradley  knew  just  the  tone  in  which  that  "wonder- 
fully well"  had  been  uttered  by  the  ex-New  Yorker. 
It  made  him  angry. 


THE  "SUBSCRIPTION  BALL"        269 

"Yes,"  he  remarked,  with  sarcasm,  "I  suppose  his 
lordship  thinks  we're  doing  very  fairly  for  Cape  Cod 
countrymen.  Well,  he's  working  for  those  same 
countrymen  himself,  now,  so  he  ought  to  know." 

"I  think  that's  a  very  unkind  remark,  especially 
when  Sam  is  helping  you,  as  he  is,  just  out  of  friend- 
ship. I  tell  you  this,  Brad :  Sam  isn't  always  talking 
about  himself  and  saying  sarcastic  things  about  other 
people." 

Bradley  went  home  injured  and  resentful.  He 
made  up  his  mind  that  Gus  shouldn't  have  another 
chance  to  call  him  "jealous."  He  could  show  her  that 
there  were  others  who  didn't  care. 

He  plunged  into  business  deeper  than  ever.  The 
diving  outfit  came  from  Boston  and  worked  well. 
They  visited  the  sunken  tar  schooner  and  Sam  made 
his  first  dive;  Captain  Titcomb,  who  understood  the 
apparatus,  worked  the  pump.  Sam  reported  that  the 
tar  seemed  to  be  in  good  condition,  and  that,  for  the 
present,  they  could  get  up  a  number  of  the  barrels 
through  the  hatchway.  Later  they  might  have  to 
blow  away  a  part  of  the  hull. 

So  every  fair  day  they  worked  over  the  wreck. 
Sam,  in  the  diver's  suit,  clambered  down  into  the  sub- 
merged vessel's  hold  and  attached  the  barrels  to  the 
tackle.  Then,  by  the  aid  of  the  windlass,  they  were 
hauled  up  and  swung  aboard  the  Lizzie.  By  the 
first  of  October  they  had  already  gotten  out  over  two 
hundred  barrels,  and  Sam  said  that  he  saw  no  reason 
why  all  of  the  eight  hundred  might  not  be  secured  in 
the  course  of  time.  The  tar  speculation  was  already 


270  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

a  very  profitable  one,  and  the  credit  belonged  to  Brad- 
ley.   ' 

There  was  to  be  v/hat  the  posters  called  "A  Grand 
Select  Subscription  Ball"  at  the  Orham  Town  Hall 
on  the  evening  of  October  tenth.  The  local  corre- 
spondent of  the  Item  announced  that  the  beauty  and 
fashion  of  the  surrounding  section  were  expected  to 
be  present,  that  the  Silver  String  Orchestra,  all  the 
way  from  Bridgewater,  was  to  furnish  music,  and 
that,  altogether,  the  affair  would  no  doubt  be  uthe 
most  elite  time  that  our  village  has  seen  since  the 
Masonic  Temple  was  dedicated." 

Gus  had  expressed  a  desire  to  go  to  the  ball  and 
Bradley  had  subscribed;  that  is  to  say,  he  had  paid 
two  dollars  for  a  ticket  admitting  "gent  and  two 
ladies." 

He  dressed  for  the  affair,  when  the  evening  came, 
with  no  very  pleasant  anticipations.  The  relations 
between  Gus  and  himself  had  not  improved  since  the 
disagreement  over  Sam's  visits.  It  was  as  much  his 
own  fault  as  anyone's;  instead  of  waiting  for  a  fa- 
vorable time  and  again  pleading  his  case,  he  brooded 
over  what  he  considered  his  ill-treatment  and  behaved 
almost  boyishly  sulky.  Gus  resented  this  behavior 
and  showed  that  she  resented  it.  It  was  all  very  fool- 
ish, of  course,  but  also  very  natural.  And,  meanwhile, 
Mr.  Hammond,  backed  by  some  experience  with  the 
ladies,  played  his  own  cards  with  discrimination. 

The  partners  were  expecting  a  check  from  New 
Bedford  in  payment  of  the  first  shipment  of  tar,  and, 


THE  "SUBSCRIPTION  BALL"        271 

as  it  was  early  when  Bradley  finished  dressing,  he 
determined  to  go  down  to  the  post-office  before  call- 
ing for  Gus.  Captain  Titcomb  was  out  of  town.  He 
had  not  told  where  he  was  going,  merely  observing 
that  he  wanted  a  couple  of  days  off  for  private  busi- 
ness. What  the  private  business  was  he  did  not  state. 

The  old  maids  were  on  hand,  as  usual,  to  inspect 
their  boy  when  he  appeared  in  the  sitting-room.  Miss 
Prissy  brushed  his  coat  and  handed  him  a  clean  hand- 
kerchief, while  Miss  Tempy  sprinkled  his  lapel  with 
perfumery  from  her  own  bottle.  The  sisters  were  in 
high  spirits  these  days.  Miss  Prissy  was  almost  well 
again,  and  Captain  Titcomb  was  calling  with  en- 
couraging regularity.  Clara,  whose  mother  seemed 
likely  to  spend  the  winter  at  Fall  River,  was  still  with 
them.  As  Miss  Tempy  said,  they  didn't  see  how 
they  had  ever  got  along  without  her.  On  this  par- 
ticular evening  Miss  Hopkins,  dressed  in  her  best, 
had  gone  out.  She  had  explained  that  she  might  go 
to  the  ball,  "just  to  keep  Bennie  company."  "Bennie" 
was  a  twelve-year-old  cousin  of  hers  who  lived  down- 
town and  was  attending  dancing-school. 

The  expected  check  did  not  arrive  on  that  mailr 
and,  as  Bradley  came  down  the  post-office  steps,  some 
one  laid  a  heavy  hand  on  his  shoulder.  He  turned 
with  a  start. 

"Why,  hello,  Cap'n  Ez !"  he  exclaimed,  "you  back 
again?" 

The  Captain  nodded.  He  was  dressed  in  his  Sun- 
day clothes  and  carried  a  hand-bag.  His  light  over- 
coat was  thrown  open,  his  derby  hat  was  a  little  on 


272  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

one  side,  and  the  stump  of  a  cigar  was  gripped  be- 
tween his  teeth. 

"What's  up?"  asked  the  junior  partner. 

"Everything's  up,"  was  the  brisk  answer.  "You 
come  with  me." 

"But  I  can't  stop  now;  I'm  in  a  hurry." 

"Never  mind  your  hurry.  I  want  you.  Stopped 
'at  the  house  on  the  way  from  the  train,  but  Tempy 
said  you'd  gone  to  the  office.  Come  on — come !" 

He  hooked  his  arm  into  that  of  his  companion  and 
led  the  way  through  the  crowd  of  loungers  on  the 
sidewalk.  Bradley  still  protested. 

"But,  Cap'n  Ez,  wait  till  some  other  time.  I 
must " 

"Shut  up !  I'm  so  full  of  steam  I'll  bile  over  in  a 
minute.  This  ain't  foolin',  it's  bus'ness." 

He  dragged  his  puzzled  partner  along  the  side- 
walk and  across  the  road  to  the  Traveller's  Rest. 
Bradley  hung  back  and  asked  questions,  but  the  Cap- 
tain would  neither  pause  nor  answer.  He  opened  the 
door  of  the  hotel  and  literally  pushed  his  friend  in- 
side. Then  he  led  the  way  upstairs  and  into  his  own 
room. 

"Set  down!"  he  commanded,  kicking  a  chair  up  to 
the  table  and  turning  to  lock  the  door  behind  him. 

"No,  Cap'n,  I  can't  sit  down ;  I  ought  to  be  going 
this  minute." 

Captain  Titcomb  hesitated.  Then  he  unlocked  the 
door  and  flung  it  open. 

"All  right!"  he  said,  "go  ahead.  I've  been  count- 
in'  on  springin'  the  news  on  you  for  the  last  six  hours, 


•THE  "SUBSCRIPTION  BALL"        273 

but  I  s'pose  I  can  wait  another  ten.  Don't  let  me 
interfere  with  your  plans.'7 

Any  other  tone  than  this  and  Bradley  might  have 
continued  to  resist.  As  it  was  he  sat  down,  though 
with  reluctance. 

"Well?"  he  said,  somewhat  impatiently. 

"Well!"  replied  the  Captain,  still  with  the  ag- 
grieved expression  on  his  face.  "Now,  Brad,  you 
know  mighty  well  I've  got  somethin'  important  to  say 
— somethin'  mighty  important,  or  I  wouldn't  have 
snaked  you  up  by  the  coat-collar  this  way.  I  haven't 
even  stopped  to  eat  a  mouthful,  myself,  I  was  so  crazy 
to  git  at  you.  But  never  mind  that;  if  you  ain't  in- 
terested enough  to " 

"You  know  I'm  interested,  Cap'n  Ez.  Only  do 
hurry!" 

The  Captain  locked  the  door  again.  Then  he  took 
a  bundle  of  papers  from  his  overcoat  pocket,  and, 
selecting  a  card  from  among  them,  said,  impressively, 
"Brad,  what  have  you  and  me  been  prayin'  for  for 
the  last  three  months  or  more?" 

The  junior  partner  shook  his  head.  The  Captain's 
suppressed  excitement  was  beginning  to  have  its  effect 
on  him. 

"I  don't  know,"  he  replied.  "Do  you  mean  a  big 
job?" 

"I  mean  somethin'  that'll  give  us  the  tools  to  do  a 
good  many  big  jobs  with.  I  mean  a  new,  up-to-date 
wreckin'  vessel."  He  leaned  across  the  table.  "Brad, 
my  son,"  he  said,  slowly,  "I've  got  that  very  craft." 

" You've  got  her?" 


274  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

"I've  got  her,  or  the  same  as  got  her.  Look  at 
that!" 

He  tossed  the  card  on  the  table  and  Bradley  picked 
it  up.  It  was  the  photograph  of  a  good-sized,  two- 
masted  schooner — a  wrecking  schooner,  and  of  mod- 
ern build;  so  much  was  plain. 

"Look  at  her!"  cried  the  Captain.  "Ain't  she  a 
dream?  And  that  tintype  don't  begin  to  do  her  jus- 
tice. Now,  Brad,  that  schooner's  the  Diving  Belle, 
built  in  New  Bedford  two  years  ago  and  cost  eight 
thousand  to  build.  No  sham  about  her;  built  for 
wreckin' ;  good  seasoned  timber,  tackles,  patent  wind- 
lass, nice,  light,  roomy  cabin,  anchors,  sails,  all  com- 
plete— and  a  first-class  sixteen  horse-power  gasoline 
engine.  And,  son,"  Captain  Titcomb  raised  his  fist, 
"you  and  me  can  buy  the  whole  blessed  outfit  for  five 
— thousand — dollars — cash !" 

The  fist  fell  on  the  table  with  a  bang.  Bradley 
gasped  in  delighted  wonder. 

"You  don't  mean  it!"  he  cried. 

"You  bet  I  mean  it !  And  I've  got  a  six-day  option 
on  her,  and  I  had  to  talk  to  git  it,  too.  You  see,"  he 
added,  gleefully,  "you  ain't  cornered  the  option  mar- 
ket altogether." 

"But  where  is  she?  Whose  was  she?  How  did 
you  hear  of  her?  Five  thousand!  Why,  that's 


"Easy!  Easy!  'One  at  a  time,  please,  so  I'll 
know  which  to  dodge,'  as  the  play  actor  said  when 
he  got  the  bouquet  one  side  of  his  head  and  the  cab- 
bage t'other.  Now,  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it." 


THE  "SUBSCRIPTION  BALL"        275 

And  he  kept  his  word.  When  Captain  Titcomb 
really  enthused  over  a  subject  he  was  a  wonderful 
talker.  Now,  shaking  a  forefinger  in  his  companion's 
face,  he  talked  so  fast  that  Bradley  forgot  everything 
except  to  listen.  The  schooner  had  been  built  for  one 
Abijah  Foster,  of  Vineyard  Haven.  She  had  been 
engaged  in  the  wrecking  business  for  two  seasons 
along  the  south  Jersey  coast  and  then  her  owner  died. 
His  widow  was  the  only  heir  and  she  needed  money. 
The  vessel  had  been  bought  by  a  Nantucket  man,  but 
when  it  came  to  paying  the  price  there  had  been  a 
hitch  that  resulted  in  the  collapse  of  the  deal.  Cap- 
tain Titcomb  had  heard  of  this  hitch  some  weeks  be- 
fore and  that  was  what  his  previous  hints  had  meant. 
He  wrote  to  the  widow's  lawyer,  received  a  letter  in 
reply,  and  hurried  to  the  Haven. 

Bradley  was  now  as  wildly  jubilant  as  his  partner. 
He  asked  innumerable  questions,  but  the  Captain  had 
an  answer  ready  for  each  one.  He  had  with  him  a 
rough  plan  of  the  schooner's  rig,  a  photograph  of  her 
cabin,  a  drawing  of  her  engine.  These  were  laid  on 
the  table  and  they  moved  from  one  to  the  other,  the 
Captain  explaining,  pointing  and  arguing.  The  pass- 
ing of  time  was  forgotten  entirely. 

"There!"  cried  Captain  Titcomb,  at  length,  taking 
a  drink  from  the  water  pitcher  to  moisten  his  throat, 
dry  from  continuous  talking;  "there!  that's  what  my 
private  bus'ness  out  of  town  was !  D'you  wonder  I 
had  to  unload  to-night  or  bust  a  biler?n 

The  junior  partner  awoke  from  his  trance  with  a 
start.  And  just  then,  from  the  sitting-room  below, 


276  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

came  a  muffled,  whirring  sound,  followed  by  a  suc- 
cession of  faint  "Hoo-hoos"  nine  of  them  alto- 
gether. The  cuckoo  clock,  legacy  of  old  Captain  Syl- 
vester Harding,  who  had  willed  it  to  the  Traveller's 
Rest — possibly  as  a  partial  recompense  for  unpaid 
board — was  doing  its  duty. 

Bradley  turned  white  and  then  red.  Nine  o'clock  I 
and  the  grand  march  at  the  Subscription  Ball  was  to 
start  "promptly  at  eight !"  And  Gus  had  looked  for- 
ward to  this  evening  for  over  a  month ! 

It  is  doubtful  if,  even  now,  he  could  tell  much  about 
his  trip  from  the  Captain's  room  to  the  Baker  cottage. 
He  ran  most  of  the  way.  Over  and  over  again  he  re- 
proached himself  for  his  forgetfulness.  Gus  had 
called  him  neglectful  and  selfish  once  before;  what 
would  she  say  now?  He  scarcely  dared  knock  on 
the  dining-room  door. 

But  whatever  he  may  have  expected  to  hear  when 
that  door  opened,  what  he  did  hear  was  certainly  a 
distinct  surprise.  It  was  some  moments  before  the 
knock  was  answered.  Then  the  door  opened  a  very 
little  way  and  Grandmother  Baker,  her  head  envel- 
oped in  a  shawl,  peeped  out. 

"Who  is  it?"  she  asked,  doubtfully.  Nine  o'clock 
is  a  late  hour  for  callers  in  Orham. 

"It's  me— Brad.    Where's  Gus?" 

"Oh !  I  declare,  Bradley,  you  scart  me,  comin'  so 
late.  Gus  has  gone." 

"Gone !" 

"Yes.  She  said  if  you  called  to  say  that  she  didn't 
wish  to  interfere  with  anything  so  important  as  your 


THE  "SUBSCRIPTION  BALL"        277 

business  matters.  You  see,  Sam  Hammond  stopped 
here  about  ha'f-past  eight  and  said  he'd  seen  you  and 
Cap'n  Ezry  go  into  the  Traveller's  Rest  together.  So 
Gus  went  to  the  ball  with  him." 

The  Subscription  Ball  was  nearly  half  over  when 
Bradley  came  up  the  stairs  of  the  Town  Hall.  He 
tossed  his  ticket  in  at  the  window  and  absent-mindedly 
checked  his  overcoat  and  hat.  Then  he  stood  in  the 
doorway  looking  at  the  dancers.  For  almost  an  hour 
he  had  been  walking  up  and  down  the  sidewalk  oppo- 
site the  Hall,  remorsefully  hating  himself  one  minute, 
and  fiercely  nursing  his  injured  pride  the  next.  Twice 
he  turned  to  go  home,  and  each  time  he  turned  back 
Again. 

The  "waltz  quadrille"  was  the  particular  dance 
then  going  on.  Bradley  glanced  over  the  crowded 
floor.  He  caught  sight  of  Sam  Hammond  dancing 
with  one  of  the  Rogers  girls.  Opposite  them  in  the 
set,  he  noted  vaguely,  were  Captain  Titcomb  and 
Clara  Hopkins.  Further  off  "Snuppy"  Black  and 
Georgiana  Bailey  were  whirling  with  the  "society" 
step — Georgiana  always  proclaimed  that  the  "glide" 
was  "dreadful  old-fashioned."  Captain  Jabez  was 
turning  stout  Mrs.  Seth  Wingate;  the  "glide"  was 
good  enough  and  to  spare  for  Captain  Jabez. 

At  last  Bradley  saw  Gus.  She  was  away  down  at 
the  other  end  of  the  hall  and  her  partner  was  Hart- 
well  Sears.  He  was  glad  that  she  was  not  with  Sam, 
but  he  resented  the  look  of  enjoyment  on  her  face. 
He  did  not  know  that  she  had  seen  him  looking  for 


278  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

her,  and  that  the  expression  was  assumed  for  his 
benefit. 

But  when  Hartwell,  at  the  end  of  the  quadrille,  es- 
corted her  to  the  settee  by  the  wall,  Bradley,  white 
but  firm,  walked  straight  toward  her.  She  saw  him 
coming  and  smiled  coolly. 

"Hello!"  she  said,  "so  you  decided  to  come,  after 
all!" 

"Gus,"  whispered  Bradley,  bending  toward  her, 
"I'm  so  sorry.  Please  forgive  me." 

But  Gus  didn't  intend  to  forgive  so  soon.  She  had 
been  deeply  wounded  by  what  she  considered  his  neg- 
lect, and  she  meant  to  punish  him. 

"Oh!"  she  observed,  carelessly,  "I  realize  that  I 
must  not  expect  you  to  think  of  my  pleasure  when 
Cap'n  Titcomb  wants  to  interview  you.  Oh,  yes, 
Sam!  this  is  our  schottische,  isn't  it?  I'm  so  glad!" 
The  next  instant  she  was  sorry  she  said  this,  but  then 
it  was  too  late. 

There  was  just  a  suspicion  of  triumph  in  the  glance 
that  Hammond  gave  him  as  the  music  began  for  the 
schottische,  and  Bradley  watched  them  go  with  tight- 
shut  lips.  Then  he  tossed  his  head  and  stepping 
briskly  down  to  where  the  younger  Miss  Rogers  sat, 
entered  into  a  lively  conversation. 

Miss  Rogers  had  arrived  late  and  her  card  was,  in 
consequence,  not  full.  Bradley  promptly  pencilled 
his  initials  in  every  vacant  space.  The  fact  that  he 
thereby  contracted  for  a  galop,  a  "York,"  and  a  schot- 
tische, none  of  which  he  had  the  slightest  idea  how  to 
dance,  didn't  trouble  him  at  the  time.  As  for  the 


THE  "SUBSCRIPTION  BALL"        279 

flattered  Miss  Rogers,  she  simpered  and  giggled  and 
looked  up  into  his  face  until  Melissa  Busteed — who 
had  been  given  a  gallery  ticket  and  had  come  in  order 
to  denounce  the  whole  sinful  affair  at  the  next  Come- 
Outers'  meeting — declared  'twas  a  mercy  she  didn't 
kiss  him  right  in  front  of  the  whole  crowd. 

They  went  to  supper  together  and — there  was  fate 
in  it,  beyond  doubt — sat  directly  opposite  Sam  and 
Gus.  Bradley  ate  cold  ham  and  ice-cream  without 
knowing  which  was  which,  being  certain  only  that 
both  were  flavored  with  gall  and  wormwood.  He 
laughed  as  loudly  as  the  rest  when  unlucky  Captain 
Jabez  spilled  a  plate  of  vanilla-and-lemon-mixed  into 
his  wife's  lap,  but  five  minutes  later  he  couldn't  have 
sworn  that  it  had  happened. 

He  spoke  with  Captain  Titcomb  but  once.  That 
was  during  an  interval  between  dances,  when  the  Cap- 
tain, red-hot  but  smiling,  came  strolling  towards  him. 

"Hello,  Brad!"  he  exclaimed.  "Got  here,  didn't 
you?"  Then,  glancing  at  the  young  man's  face,  he 
added:  "Havin'  a  good  time?  Hope  our  stoppin' 
to  talk  didn't  make  any  diff'rence?" 

The  answer  was  non-committal.  Just  then  "Ben- 
nie,"  Miss  Hopkins'  nephew,  came  up.  He  was  ar- 
rayed in  his  first  black  suit  with  "long  pants,"  and 
the  glory  thereof  sat  grandly  upon  him.  The  Cap- 
tain noticed  it. 

"My!"  exclaimed  the  latter,  "you  are  tony  to- 
night, Bennie.  How  you  do  grow  !  You'll  be  a  man 
'fore  your  mother  yit.  Does  she  know  you're  out?" 

He  hurried  away  in  response  to  the  prompter's  call 


2 So  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

of  "Take  your  partners,"  leaving  the  indignant  Ben- 
nie  to  observe,  "Humph!  think's  he's  smart,  don't 
he!  He  ain't  any  dancer.  Don't  know  one  of  the 
new  steps  us  fellers  learn  at  dancin'-school.  Gee!'' 
with  a  chuckle,  "Clara  was  awful  mad  at  him.  He'd 
engaged  the  grand  march  and  a  lot  more  with  her  and 
never  got  here  till  ha'f-past  nine.  If  he  hadn't  ex- 
plained how  you'd  got  hold  of  him  at  the  post-office 
and  kept  him  talkin'  'wreckin'  '  for  over  an  hour,  I 
don't  b'lieve  they'd  have  made  up  yet.  'Twouldn't 
have  made  any  difference  to  her,  though ;  7  was  here, 
and  I  can  dance  better'n  any  two  Cap'n  Ez  Tit- 
combs." 

Bradley  had  never  before  felt  so  much  like  kicking 
his  business  partner.  The  smooth  way  in  which  the 
Captain  cleared  his  own  skirts,  by  shifting  the  blame 
to  his  innocent  victim,  was  characteristically  diplo- 
matic, but  mighty  provoking.  And  he  "hoped"  it 
wouldn't  make  any  difference ! 

The  Subscription  Ball,  extras  and  all,  came  to  an 
end  at  three  o'clock.  By  this  time  Bradley  was  once 
more  repentant  and  humble.  When  Gus  came  out 
of  the  cloak-room  he  went  to  meet  her,  resolved  to 
abase  himself  and  plead  again  for  forgiveness. 

"Gus,"  he  stammered,  "Gus — I — I — mayn't  I 
walk  home  with  you?  You  know  I " 

But,  as  Bradley's  anger  had  cooled,  his  fiancee's 
had  risen.  No  detail  of  the  flirtation  with  the  Rogers 
girl  had  escaped  her. 

"Thank  you,"  she  answered,  and  every  word  was 
crusted  with  ice;  "Mr.  Hammond  was  gentleman 


THE  "S  UB SCRIP  TION  BALL"         2  8  r 

enough  to  escort  me  here  and  I  presume  he  will  see 
me  home." 

Bradley  accompanied  Miss  Rogers  to  the  parental 
gate.  It  wasn't  a  hilarious  walk.  The  young  lady 
said  to  her  older  sister  later  on : 

"Julia,  I  honestly  believe  he  didn't  speak  one  word 
from  the  time  he  left  the  hall  till  he  said  good-night. 
I  had  to  talk  for  two,  or  I  should  have  gone  to  sleep 
on  the  way.  He  may  be  good-looking  enough,  but 
Gus  Baker  can  have  him  for  all  me.  I'd  as  soon  come 
home  with  a  wooden  Indian." 

And  Bradley,  in  his  own  chamber,  stared  out  of 
the  window  at  the  light  in  Gus'  room  and  vowed  that 
he  would  not  get  down  on  his  knees  to  that  young  lady 
again;  let  her  have  her  New  York  gentleman  if  she 
wanted  him.  Then  he  thought  of  that  other  dance 
and  how  happy  he  had  been  because  she  had  given 
him  the  waltz  that  Sam  asked  for.  And  he  went  tcr 
bed  utterly  miserable. 


THE   DIVING  BELLE. 

THE  next  morning  he  was  more  miserable 
still,  having  had  time  to  think  it  over.  But 
he  resolved  that  no  one  should  guess  his 
feelings  from  his  appearance.  Therefore,  he  was,  at 
the  breakfast-table,  outwardly  calm,  although  a  little 
more  quiet  than  usual. 

The  "old  maids"  were  loaded  with  questions  about 
the  ball,  and  began  firing  them  at  him  and  at  Clara 
as  soon  as  the  grace  was  said.  They  wanted  to  know 
who  was  there,  what  they  had  for  supper,  and  espe- 
cially all  about  the  ladies'  gowns. 

"Did  Elviry  Bailey  wear  that  new  black  net  of 
hersV7  asked  Miss  Prissy.  "She's  talked  about  noth- 
in'  else,  so  they  tell  me,  for  the  last  month.  How'd 
she  look  in  it,  Bradley?  Was  it  becomin'?" 


THE  DIFING  BELLE  283 

Now  Mrs.  Bailey  might  have  been  robed  in  purple 
and  gold  for  all  that  Bradley  knew  to  the  contrary, 
but  he  promptly  replied  that  the  black  net  looked  very 
well,  he  thought. 

"I  s'pose  Georgiana  had  on  her  blue  silk  and  wax 
beads,  didn't  she?"  Miss  Tempy  queried. 

"Yes,  I  believe  so.7' 

Clara  laughed.  "Why,  no,  she  didn't,  Bradley!" 
she  exclaimed;  "Georgiana  wore  her  green  cash- 


mere." 


"There!"  burst  out  Miss  Tempy,  "if  that  ain't 
jest  like  a  man !  We  used  to  ask  father  about 
what  the  women  folks  over  in  London,  or  Bom- 
bay, or  Surinam  wore  and  he  couldn't  tell  any 
more'n  a  cat,  and  he'd  seen  'em  time  and  time  again. 
Well,  we'll  have  to  find  out  about  the  dresses  from 
you,  Clara,  Tell  us  who  danced  with  who,  Brad- 
ley." 

"Yes,"  said  the  older  sister.  "But  we  won't  ask 
who  you  danced  with;  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  we 
could  guess  that.11 

Miss  Prissy  accompanied  this  sagacious  remark 
with  a  sly  chuckle.  Miss  Tempy  joined  in  the  chuckle 
and  nodded  wisely.  Clara  smiled,  but  she  looked  at 
Bradley  with  an  odd  expression.  As  for  the  young 
man,  he,  too,  tried  to  smile,  but  it  was  a  poor  at- 
tempt. 

"Was  Cap'n  Ezra  there?"  asked  Miss  Tempy, 
after  a  moment's  silence. 

"Yes,  he  was  there." 

"Sho !    I  want  to  know !    I  s'pose,"  with  elaborate 


284  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

unconcern,  "he  danced  with  the  married  folks, 
mostly?" 

Bradley  didn't  answer.  He  was  stirring  his  coffee 
in  an  absent  way,  and  his  face  was  very  solemn.  So 
Miss  Tempy  turned  to  Clara. 

"No  use  talkin'  to  him  this  mornin',"  she  ob- 
served; "he's  dreamin',  I  guess.  Who  did  you  dance 
with,  Clara?" 

"Oh,  with  Bennie  and  some  of  the  others,"  the 
young  lady  replied,  promptly.  "Bennie's  getting 
along  splendidly  at  dancing-school;  he  waltzes  very 
nicely  now." 

Bradley  had  little  appetite.  He  drank  his  coffee, 
and  then,  with  an  excuse  that  he  was  in  a  hurry,  left 
the  table  and,  putting  on  his  cap,  went  out. 

He  was,  to  all  appearances,  in  high  spirits  when 
he  reached  the  wharf.  He  dreaded  meeting  Captain 
Titcomb  and  Hammond,  but  he  made  up  his  mind 
they  shouldn't  know  it.  So  he  chatted  with  Barney 
and  Peleg,  laughed  loudly  at  the  flimsiest  jokes,  and 
whistled  as  he  stood  at  the  Lizzie's  wheel  and  steered 
her  out  of  the  harbor.  But  if  he  was  afraid  of  being 
questioned  by  the  Captain  or  sneered  at  by  Sam,  he 
need  not  have  been.  Mr.  Hammond,  possessing  wis- 
dom of  a  sort,  didn't  refer  to  the  previous  evening. 
The  Captain,  too,  seemed  to  have  forgotten  it.  He 
groaned  once  or  twice  over  his  work  at  the  air-pump, 
and,  when  Bradley  asked  him  if  the  pump  needed 
oiling,  replied  briefly: 

"  'Taint  the  pump  that  needs  ile,  it's  my  j'ints.  No 
use  talkin' !  I'm  gettin'  too  much  of  an  antique  to  trip 


THE  DIFING  BELLE  28 ^ 

what  Sarah  Emma  Gage  calls  the  'light  and  frantic 
toe'  nineteen  times  in  one  night.  That  last  Portland 
Fancy  with  Matildy  Wingate  pretty  nigh  sent  me  to 
the  scrap  heap.  Every  time  we  swung  partners  she'd 
slat  me  clear  of  the  deck  and  whirl  me  'round  till  I 
swan  to  man  if  I  didn't  think  my  feet  would  frazzle 
out  like  a  masthead  pennant  in  a  gale  of  wind !  She 
must  have  thought  she  was  shakin'  carpets.  I  felt 
like  tellin'  her  we  wan't  playin'  'snap  the  whip.'  ' 

They  worked  at  getting  out  the  tar  until  three 
o'clock,  when,  at  Captain  Titcomb's  suggestion,  they 
quit  for  the  day  and  the  Lizzie  came  back  to  her 
moorings.  Then  the  crew  went  ashore  and  the  part- 
ners shut  themselves  in  the  cabin  to  once  more  discuss 
the  project  of  buying  the  Diving  Belle.  The  photo- 
graphs and  sketches  were  exhibited,  the  Captain 
argued  and  enthused,  and  Bradley  did  his  best  to 
forget  Gus  and  to  be  interested.  He  succeeded  par- 
tially. 

The  junior  partner  agreed  that  the  Vineyard 
Haven  schooner  was  a  wronderful  bargain,  but  he  dis- 
liked the  idea  of  going  in  debt  for  a  part  of  her,  as  it 
seemed  that  they  must  do. 

"You  see,  Cap'n  Ez,"  he  said,  "we've  got  alto- 
gether less  than  four  thousand  dollars  between  us  if 
we  put  up  every  cent  we've  made.  We  shall  have  to 
borrow  at  least  another  thousand,  and  I  hate  to.  In 
a  year,  if  things  go  as  well  as  they  have,  we  ought  to 
be  able  to  build  a  new  vessel  and  pay  for  every  stick 
of  her.  And  yet,"  he  added,  "it  seems  a  shame  to 
let  this  chance  go  by." 


286  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

The  Captain  glanced  at  his  companion  and 
drummed  with  his  fingers  on  the  table.  When  he 
spoke  there  was  a  hesitancy  in  his  manner. 

"We  can't  let  it  go  by,"  he  said,  "we'd  never  git 

another  like  it.  Now,  Brad — now,  Brad ;"  he 

stopped  and  drummed  again.  Then  he  went  on  with- 
out looking  up.  "I  don't  know's  I  mentioned  this 
afore,  but  all  my  money  ain't  been  put  into  this 
wreckin'  deal  yit.  You  see,  I  own  some  shares  in  that 
big  cranb'ry  bog  of  the  Ostable  folks.  Must  be  about 
fifteen  hundred  dollars'  wuth  altogether.  I  cal'late, 
maybe,  I  ain't  spoke  of  this  to  you  afore,  have  I  ?" 

"Well,  no !  you  haven't,"  answered  the  astonished 
Bradley,  drily. 

"No.  I  presume  likely  it — er — must  have  slipped 
my  mind.  Well,  I'll  sell  the  bog  shares  and  put  up 
what's  needed  to  finish  buyin'  the  Divin'  Belle.  You 
can  pay  off  your  part  as  we  earn  it.  Is  it  a  go?" 

The  junior  partner  paused  before  replying.  This 
matter  of  the  cranberry  swamp  money  was  a  most 
surprising  revelation.  The  Captain's  previous  silence 
concerning  it  was  exactly  in  keeping  with  his  old  char- 
acter, the  character  of  the  skipper  of  the  Thomas 
Doane,  and  a  phase  that  had  been  growing  less  and 
less  evident  of  late.  However,  Bradley  did  not  feel 
justified  in  refusing  to  accept  the  offer.  It  didn't  seem 
fair  to  his  partner. 

"All  right,"  he  said,  finally;  "I'll  agree,  of  course. 
If  you're  willing  to  risk  it,  I  ouo:ht  to  be." 

"Good !  We'll  take  a  day  off  to-morrer  and  go  up 
to  the  Haven  and  look  her  over." 


THE  DIFING  BELLE  287 

The  rest  of  that  afternoon  Bradley  spent  in  his 
room,  thinking.  The  more  he  thought  of  his  own 
share  in  the  happenings  at  the  dance,  the  more 
ashamed  he  was  of  them.  He  had  acted  like  a  boy; 
but  then  Gus  had  not  behaved  well,  either.  He 
mused  till  supper-time  and  only  succeeded  in  making 
himself  still  more  uncomfortable. 

It  was  dark  when  he  came  out  of  the  gate  that 
evening.  There  was  a  fog  that  was  almost  a  driz- 
zling rain,  and  the  big  silver-leaf  dripped  and  the 
fence  rails  were  covered  with  beady  drops.  From 
the  outer  beach  the  sound  of  the  surf  came  faintly, 
like  a  never-ending  groan.  A  lonely,  miserable  night; 
one  that  fitted  his  feelings  exactly. 

He  had  intended  going  to  the  post-office  after  the 
expected  check,  but  a  little  way  past  the  gap  in  the 
Baker  fence  he  stopped  and  looked  back.  The  light 
in  the  dining-room  attracted  him  in  spite  of  him- 
self. Gus,  no  doubt,  was  there;  reading,  perhaps; 
perhaps  thinking  of  him.  He  wondered  if  she  would 
be  ready  to  forget  and  forgive  if  he  came  to  her  and 
asked  pardon  once  more.  He  stood  there,  struggling 
with  his  pride. 

And  just  then  he  heard  some  one  walking  toward 
him  from  the  direction  of  the  village.  He  had  no 
wish  to  meet  acquaintances  and  so  drew  back  under 
the  Saunders'  lilac  bushes.  A  man,  with  his  coat 
collar  turned  up,  went  by  rapidly.  It  was  too  dark 
to  see  well,  but  Bradley  was  surprised  to  hear  the  foot- 
steps go  up  the  path  to  the  door  of  that  very  dining- 
room  the  window  of  which  he  had  been  watching. 


288  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

The  visitor  knocked.  An  interval;  then  the  door 
opened  and  Gus  stood  there,  a  silhouette  against  the 
light. 

"Why,  good  evening,  Sam!"  Bradley  heard  her 
say.  "Is  this  you?  Come  in;  I'm  glad  to  see  you." 

A  minute  later  and  Bradley  was  on  his  way  to  the 
post-office.  He  had  been  a  fool  long  enough.  This, 
he  determined,  should  end  it. 

The  partners  started  for  Vineyard  Haven  in  thfe 
£arly  morning.  The  Captain  talked  most  of  the  way, 
for  which  Bradley  was  thankful;  he  didn't  feel  like 
talking.  They  found  the  Diving  Belle  lying  at  the 
wharf,  and  Captain  Titcomb  watched  his  companion's 
face  as  they  stood  on  the  stringpiece  looking  down  at 
her. 

"Well,  son,"  he  observed  after  a  short  silence, 
"what  do  you  think  of  her?  The  tintype  don't  flatter 
her  none,  does  it?" 

Bradley's  answer  was  enthusiastic  enough  to  satisfy 
«ven  Captain  Titcomb.  "By  jiminy!"  exclaimed  the 
junior  partner;  "she's  a  daisy!  If  her  inside  is  as 
good  as  her  outside,  she's  the  best  five  thousand  dol- 
lars' worth  I  ever  saw." 

And,  when  the  examination  was  concluded,  he  said, 
"Let's  hunt  up  that  lawyer  without  wasting  another 
minute.  I'm  only  afraid  that  he'll  forget  your  option 
and  sell  her  before  we  get  there." 

They  found  the  lawyer  and  signed  the  papers.  It 
remained  only  to  bring  over  the  check  and  take  away 
the  schooner.  And  this  they  did  a  week  later.  Mean- 


THE  DICING  BELLE  289 

while  Captain  Titcomb  had  performed  another  mira- 
cle. He  had  hunted  up  a  man  who  had  expressed  a 
desire  to  purchase  the  Lizzie,  and,  after  two  days  of 
bargaining,  during  which  time  the  Captain  had  twice 
pretended  to  give  it  up  and  return  to  Orham,  had  sold 
him  the  old  schooner  for  seven  hundred  and  fifty  dol- 
lars. Also  he  sold  his  shares  in  the  cranberry  bog. 

There  was  a  good-sized  crowd  of  townspeople  on 
the  Orham  wharf  when  the  Diving  Belle  slid  smooth- 
ly past  the  harbor  mouth  and  up  to  her  moorings. 
There  was  a  splendid  breeze,  but  they  wouldn't  have 
used  the  sails  for  any  consideration.  The  sight  of  the 
moving  pistons  in  that  wonderful  sixteen  horse-power 
engine,  the  enchanting  smell  of  the  gasoline,  the  muf- 
fled drumming  of  the  propeller  under  the  stern — these 
were  bran-new,  unadulterated  joys  of  proprietorship 
that  no  mere  item  like  the  saving  of  unnecessary  ex- 
pense could  induce  them  to  forfeit. 

The  "old  maids"  and  Clara  were  among  the  crowd 
on  the  wharf.  They  were  shown  over  the  new  vessel 
and  their  admiration  was  outspoken. 

"It's  beautiful!"  exclaimed  Miss  Prissy,  referring 
to  the  engine.  "I  declare,  Bradley,  I  shall  come 
aboard  every  night  and  see  that  you  keep  that  brass- 
work  shined  up  the  way  it  ought  to  be.  I'll  let  you 
take  some  of  my  silver  polish,  like  I  use  for  the  best 
teapot,  and  a  piece  of  chamois.  I  never  saw  a  man 
yet  that  I'd  trust  to  clean  a  kitchen  knife,  let  alone  a 
lovely  thing  like  that.  Now  don't  use  sand-soap  and 
a  rag  and  get  it  all  scratched  up." 

"And  to  think,"  cried  Miss  Tempy,  "that  Cap'm 


290  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

Titcomb  owns  ha'f  of  her  and  our  Bradley  the  other 
ha'f!  Why,  it's  jest  like  havin'  her  in  the  fam'ly. 
I'm  so  proud  I  don't  know's  I  shall  speak  to  common 
folks  after  this." 

The  others  laughed  at  this  outburst,  but  Bradley 
was  silent.  He  was  thinking  that  it  was  only  a  few 
Weeks  before  that  Gus  had  said  that  she  was  so  proud 
of  him. 

The  Diving  Belle  was  a  spoiled  child  for  the  next 
fortnight.  Her  owners  and  her  crew — all  but  Sam 
Hammond,  and  even  he  was  condescending  enough  to 
call  her  a  "nice  little  thing  of  her  size" — handled  her 
as  if  she  was  made  of  cut  glass.  Peleg  brought  Skee- 
zicks  aboard  on  purpose  to  display  her  beauties  to 
that  educated  pup,  who  seemed  to  appreciate  them, 
especially  the  galley  stove.  Bill  Taylor  was  cooking 
at  the  time,  and  the  stove  was  red-hot,  so  Skeezicks 
promptly  crawled  beneath  it,  but  even  there  he  shiv- 
ered. 

Captain  Ezra  put  in  the  most  of  his  spare  time  "im- 
proving" the  new  purchase.  Bradley  told  him  it  seem- 
ed like  the  Thomas  Doane  days  to  smell  paint  and 
trip  over  a  bucket  of  water  and  a  swab  every  little 
while. 

"Yes,"  was  the  Captain's  reply,  "but  then  I  was 
fixin'  up  somebody  else's  property;  now  I'm  fussin' 
with  my  own.  It's  as  diff 'rent  as  boardin'  and  keepin* 
house.  I  remember  seein'  Solon  Snow  fryin'  flapjacks 
one  time  when  him  and  his  brother  'Rastus  was  fishin' 
at  the  P'int  and  'twas  Solon's  week  to  cook.  Solon 
would  toss  the  flapjacks  up  with  the  fryin1  pan  to  turn 


THE  DICING  BELLE  291 

>ewi  over.  Sometimes  he  caught  'em  when  they  come 
down,  sometimes  he  didn't.  Them  that  fell  on  the 
floor  he  put  in  'Rastus's  plate.  That's  the  diff'rence 
between  workin'  for  yourself  and  for  somebody  else, 
Brad.  What  d'you  think  of  puttin'  a  gilt  stripe 
'round  the  top  of  the  deck  house  ?" 

The  gilt  stripe  was  added  to  the  house,  as  were  also 
sundry  other  decorations  to  various  parts  of  the 
schooner.  But  the  lock  on  the  cabin  door  was  the 
particular  addition  upon  which  the  Captain  prided 
himself. 

Orham  was  just  then  in  the  throes  of  a  burglar 
scare.  Two  houses  in  the  village  had  been  broken 
into  and  the  natives  were  talking  of  calling  an  indig- 
nation meeting  for  the  purpose  of  expressing  their 
opinion  of  the  Selectmen.  Then  a  steam  yacht,  be- 
longing to  a  summer  resident,  which  lay,  housed  over 
for  winter  in  the  harbor,  was  boarded  and  ransacked. 

It  was  on  the  day  following  this  robbery  that  Cap- 
tain Titcomb  began  tinkering  with  the  cabin  door. 
This  door  and  the  sliding  hatch  above  it  had  been 
fastened  with  a  padlock.  The  Captain's  first  move 
was  to  block  the  hatch  so  that  it  would  slide  back  but 
a  little  way.  Then  he  sawed  and  hammered  away  at 
the  door. 

"There !"  he  cried,  in  triumph,  after  two  hours  of 
hard  work.  "Brad,  come  here !  S'pose  one  of  them 
mean  sneak  thieves  tries  to  bust  into  that  cabin.  He 
can  pry  the  staple  off  that  padlock  easy,  can't  he? 
Yes,  but  the  way  that  hatch  is  now  'twon't  open  fur 
enough  for  him  to  climb  down;  he's  got  to  open  that 


292  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

door.  And  that  door's  got  on  it  a  three  dollar  patent 
lock  that  can't  be  opened  without  the  key,  and  no  ten 
cent,  whistle-down-the-barrel  key  neither.  The  key 
that'll  open  that  has  lace  edgin'  on  it;  you  hear  me! 
And  I've  took  off  the  knob  on  the  inside  of  the  lock, 
so  it  can't  be  worked  that  way.  Now  when  we  want 
to  go  home  we  haul  to  the  hatch  and  lock  it  with  the 
padlock.  Then  we  jest  slam  the  door.  Click !  There 
you  are !  A  spring  lock ;  how's  that  for  high  ?  Thun- 
deration!  I've  left  the  key  inside !" 

Luckily  the  key  was  lying  on  the  top  step  of  the 
cabin  stairs,  and  they  were  able  to  reach  it  with  a  fish- 
hook on  the  end  of  a  stick.  But  that  was  only  the 
beginning  of  the  trouble  with  that  wonderful  burglar- 
proof  spring  lock.  The  key  was  always  getting  lost, 
or  being  left  at  home  in  the  Captain's  "other  pants." 
As  he  would  trust  it  to  no  one  else,  the  difficulities 
that  arose  were  numberless.  Once  Alvin  Bearse  re- 
mained a  prisoner  in  the  cabin  for  half  a  day,  having 
to  wait  until  the  Diving  Belle  reached  the  wharf  and 
the  key  could  be  sent  for. 

Getting  up  the  tar,  with  the  aid  of  the  patent  wind- 
lass and  the  engine,  was  simply  fun.  They  took  out 
all  they  could  bring  up  through  the  hatchway,  and 
then  began  blowing  out  the  side  of  the  hull  with  dyna- 
mite. The  explosive  was  stored  in  the  Diving  Belle's 
hold,  forward,  behind  a  bulkhead  with  only  one  small 
manhole  in  it,  and  was  carefully  boxed  in  to  prevent 
accident. 

Bradley's  whole  interest  in  life  now  centred  in  his 
work.  Gus  he  had  not  spoken  with  since  the  night  of 


THE  DIVING  BELLE  293 

the  dance;  had,  in  fact,  only  seen  her  at  a  distance. 
Sam,  while  on  board  the  schooner,  was  pleasant  and, 
to  all  appearances,  as  friendly  as  Bradley  would  let 
him  be,  but  from  Captain  Jabez,  and  from  other  con- 
siderate and  gossip-loving  souls,  the  junior  partner 
learned  that  Hammond  was  now  a  regular  caller  at 
the  Baker  cottage.  Tactful  Captain  Titcomb  neWr 
mentioned  Gus,  and  the  "old  maids, "  though  they 
must  have  been  aware  that  their  boy  no  longer  visited 
the  house  next  door,  knew  better  than  to  question  him. 
At  times  Bradley  was  tempted  to  give  it  all  up  and 
go  away.  He  could  not  forget,  try  as  hard  as  he 
might.  But  consideration  for  his  partner,  and  his 
own  pride,  kept  him  at  home.  She  should  never  know 
how  much  he  cared,  and  Sam  and  the  rest  should  not 
have  the  satisfaction  of  crowing  over  his  running 
away. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  CAPTAIN'S  GAMBLE. 

OCTOBER  had  been  a  month  of  exceptionally 
pleasant  weather,  but,  in  the  night  of  No- 
vember first,  Bradley  woke  to  feel  the  old 
house  trembling  and  to  hear  the  rain  thundering  on 
the  roof  overhead  and  rattling  against  the  windows. 
The  wind  screamed  in  the  chimney,  and  in  the  lulls  the 
battered  weather-vane  on  the  barn  creaked  and 
whined.  It  was  comfortable  in  bed  and  he  lay  there 
listening  to  the  storm  and  remembering  that  Peleg 
had  been  hinting  at  the  coming  of  dirty  weather. 
Drowsily  he  wondered  if  there  would  be  any  wrecks 
along  shore. 

While  he  was  dressing  next  morning  he  heard 

294 


THE  CAPTAIN'S  GAMBLE          295 

voices  in  the  road  below,  and  opening  the  window  saw 
Jim  Rogers,  the  fish  peddler,  sitting  in  his  wagon  with 
the  rain  sluicing  from  the  peak  of  his  sou'wester  and 
carrying  on  a  shouted  conversation  with  Mrs.  Baker. 

"What  did  you  say  'twas,  Mr.  Rogers?"  screamed 
the  old  lady,  speaking  through  the  closed  blinds  of 
her  chamber  window. 

"The  Freedom;  big  six-masted  coal  barge.  She's 
high  and  dry  on  the  Razorback.  Hawser  parted. 
The  tug's  tryin'  to  git  her  off  now,  but  Cap'n  Knowles 
telephoned  Sam  Hardy  that  'twan't  no  use." 

"Do  tell!  It's  been  a  hard  storm.  One  of  our 
henhouse  shutters  has  blown  off.  Oh,  Mr.  Rogers! 
fetch  a  quart  of  clams  'round  to  the  back  door  and 
leave  'em  on  the  steps,  won't  you?  I'll  pay  you  next 
time  you  call." 

Bradley  didn't  hear  the  last  part  of  this  conversa- 
tion. He  was  struggling  into  his  clothes.  Only  Miss 
Prissy  was  up  when  he  came  downstairs,  and  she  pro- 
tested strongly  against  his  going  without  breakfast. 
He  compromised  by  hastily  swallowing  a  slice  of 
bread  and  butter,  and  then,  putting  on  his  oilskins, 
ran  out  of  the  house  and  down  the  road. 

They  were  talking  about  it  everywhere.  Caleb 
Weeks,  who  was  taking  down  the  shutters  of  his  store, 
called  as  Bradley  splashed  past: 

"She's  a  good  job  for  somebody,"  was  Caleb's  hail. 
"Too  big  for  you  and  Ez  though,  I'm  'fraid." 

"Squealer"  Wixon  met  him  a  little  further  on. 
"Knowles  says  she's  hard  and  fast,"  said  Squealer. 
"The  tug's  goin*  to  give  it  up.  They're  telephonin' 


296  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

Cook  now.  The  Boston  Salvage  Company'll  git  her 
off,  or  try  to,  I  cal'late." 

Bradley's  objective  point  was  the  post-office.  He 
wanted  to  see  Hardy  and  learn  the  particulars.  But 
Captain  Titcomb  was  there  before  him;  they  met  at 
the  door.  The  Captain's  eyes  were  shining. 

"Come  on,  Brad!"  he  said.  "I  was  jest  goin'  to 
send  for  you.  I  know  all  about  it." 

He  told  the  story  as  they  walked  to  the  wharf  in 
the  pouring  rain.  It  was  as  Rogers  had  said;  the 
great  barge,  twin  sister  of  the  Liberty,  was  on  her 
way  from  Boston  to  New  York  under  tow.  The  storm 
had  come  up  unexpectedly  and  the  hawser  had  parted. 
Now  she  was  fast  on  the  Razorback  shoal. 

"Crimustee!"  exclaimed  the  Captain.  "Won't  she 
be  a  job  !  Brad !  Brad !  if  you  and  me  could  only  have 
the  chance !" 

Alvin  Bearse,  who  boarded  nowadays  at  the  house 
of  a  relative  in  Orham,  was  already  on  board  the  Div- 
ing Belle  when  the  partners  reached  her. 

"I've  been  expectin'  you/'  he  said.     "Steam's  up." 

The  trip  down  was  a  rough  one,  even  while  they 
were  in  the  bay.  But  when  they  turned  Setuckit  Point 
and  stood  out  over  the  rips  the  Diving  Belle  climbed 
one  great  wave  after  another,  coasting  down  their 
greenish-gray  slopes  like  a  chip,  and  pouring  salt 
water  from  her  scuppers  in  a  steady  stream. 

Even  before  they  reached  the  Point  they  saw  the 
six  masts  of  the  barge  over  the  low  sand  dunes  against 
the  rain-streaked  sky.  Now,  as  they  drew  nearer  to 
the  shoal,  she  loomed  larger  and  larger.  Her  high 


THE  CAPTAIN'S  GAMBLE          297 

black  sides,  with  the  rollers  breaking  against  them, 
looked  like  those  of  a  mammoth  whale,  and  the  little 
tug,  puffing  and  rocking  a  short  distance  away,  like  a 
baby  beside  its  mother. 

"She's  hard  and  fast  for  sure,"  muttered  Captain 
Titcomb.  "Five  thousand  tons  of  coal  inside  of  her 
and  this  no'theaster  drivin'  her  further  on  every  min- 
ute— I  swan  to  man,  Brad!  she's  there  for  awhile! 
No  tug — nor  three  tugs,  fur's  that  goes — can  haul  her 
off.  'Member  what  I  said  when  the  Liberty  come  so 
near  landin'  where  she  is?  It's  an  anchor  and  cable 
job  and  we  can  do  that  as  well  as  anybody  and  cheaper 
than  the  big  fellers.  If  they'll  only  let  us  try !  By 
crimustee !  they've  got  to !" 

That  evening  the  train  brought  representatives 
of  three  large  wrecking  companies  to  Orham.  The 
younger  Mr.  Cook  came  also.  The  partners  saw  him, 
but  he  would  give  them  no  satisfaction.  "You  must 
come  to  Boston  to-morrow  if  you  want  to  bid,"  he 
said.  "But  I  tell  you  frankly,  price  isn't  the  only 
thing;  we  must  be  satisfied  that  the  job  can  be  carried 
through."  It  was  evident  that  he  didn't  believe  they 
could  handle  it. 

But  Bradley  and  the  Captain  were  certain  they 
could  handle  it  if  the  chance  was  given  them.  Sev- 
enty men,  at  least,  would  be  needed,  and  to  house  and 
feed  them  was  the  problem.  The  Boston  Salvage 
Company  had  lighters  and  barges  for  this  purpose, 
and  they  had  not.  But  there  was  the  big  shanty  at 
the  Point,  the  one  in  which  the  picnic  had  been  held. 
Thirty  men  had  lived  and  slept  there  before.  By 


298  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

building  new  bunks  and  slinging  hammocks,  twice 
that  number,  at  least,  could  find  room.  The  rest  must 
occupy  other  shanties  or  come  up  to  Orham  at  night. 
The  partners  schemed  and  figured  until  nearly  four 
o'clock  in  the  morning. 

One  of  them  must  go  to  Boston  that  day.  The 
Captain  said  Bradley  ought  to  go  because  Cook  knew 
him,  but  the  junior  partner  didn't  agree. 

"You  go,  Cap'n  Ez,"  he  said,  with  decision. 
"You're  a  better  bargainer  than  I  am,  and  it'll  take  a 
good  talker  and  a  clever  trader  to  land  this  job  in  the 
face  of  the  competition.  Go,  and  good  luck  be  with 
you!" 

So  the  Captain  went  on  the  first  train.  He  prom- 
ised to  telegraph  as  soon  as  a  decision  was  reached. 

But  no  telegram  came  that  day.  All  the  next  fore- 
noon Bradley  hung  about  the  station  waiting.  The 
noon  train  arrived;  no  Captain,  and  still  no  word. 
But,  after  supper,  as  the  anxious  young  man  walked 
up  to  meet  the  evening  train,  it  was  evident  that  some- 
body knew  something. 

Obed  Nickerson  was  standing  on  the  corner. 
"Brad,"  he  said.  Then,  in  a  low  tone,  "Brad,  I 
wouldn't  stand  for  it  if  I  was  you.  You're  a  partner 
as  much  as  he  is,  and  I  wouldn't  let  him  drag  me  into 
such  a  fool  deal.  I  like  you,  and,  fur's  that  goes,  I 
like  Ez ;  but  he's  crazy.  Say  no,  and  put  your  foot 
down." 

"What  are  you  talking  about?"  asked  Bradley  in 
astonishment. 

"What?     Don't  you  know?    Why — well,  then,  I 


THE  CAPTAIN'S  GAMBLE          299 

ain't  goin'  to  tell  you.  Only  you  take  rny  advice  and 
say  no;  that's  all." 

Obed's  puzzling  advice  made  Bradley  feel  even 
more  uneasy.  He  determined  to  wait  until  the  train 
arrived,  and  then,  if  the  Captain  didn't  come,  to  tele- 
graph to  the  United  States  Hotel.  But  the  first  man 
off  the  train  was  Captain  Titcomb. 

The  Captain  shook  his  partner's  hand  and  said, 
"Hello!"  He  looked  very  tired — yes,  and  worried. 

"Didn't  get  it,  hey?"  asked  Bradley.  "Well,  I 
hardly  dared  think  you  would." 

"Oh,  I  got  it!    Yes,  I  got  it!" 

"You  did!    Glory  hallelujah!" 

"Um — hum.  Now  don't  ask  any  more  questions 
here.  Come  on  down  to  my  room." 

He  was  silent  all  the  way  to  the  Traveller's  Rest, 
and,  for  a  man  who  had  just  secured  the  greatest  con- 
tract of  his  business  life,  seemed  strangely  downcast. 
When  they  reached  the  room  he  locked  the  door  and 
threw  his  overcoat  and  hat  on  the  sofa. 

"Now "  began  Bradley,  but  the  Captain  held 

«p  his  hand. 

"Set  down,"  he  said.  "It's  a  long  yarn.  Got  a 
cigar  in  your  clothes?  Thanks." 

He  lit  the  cigar  and,  twisting  it  into  the  corner  of 
his  mouth,  began  to  talk. 

"Well,"  he  said  slowly,  "I  made  Boston  all  right, 
and  stood  for  Cook  and  Son's  under  full  canvas.  I 
hailed  the  young  squirt  with  the  hay  on  his  upper  lip 
and  asked  him  if  the  old  man  was  in.  What  do  you 
want  to  see  him  for?'  says  he.  'Son,'  says  Ir  'you  trot 


300  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

along  like  a  good  little  boy  and  tell  the  old  man  that 
the  feller  that's  goin'  to  git  the  Freedom  off  Orham 
shoal  is  out  here/  That  kind  of  fetched  him  over 
with  a  slat,  and  he  went  in  and  told  Cook.  In  a  min- 
ute out  he  comes  and  pilots  me  into  the  skipper's  state- 
room. 

"I  cal'late  Cook  was  expectin'  to  see  another  feller. 
'Are  you  from  the  Salvage  Company?'  says  he.  'No,1 
says  I,  takin'  a  chair;  'my  name's  Titcomb.  I'm  from 
Orham.  My  partner's  a  young  feller  name  of  Nick- 
erson;  he's  the  one  you  picked  out  to  lift  the  Liberty's 
anchor  that  time.'  Well,  that  way  of  puttin'  it  made 
him  laugh  and  he  told  me  to  go  ahead  and  spin  my 
yarn,  only  be  quick.  I  spun  it,  but  I  ain't  sartin  that 
I  was  quick.  I  never  talked  so  afore  in  my  life, 
though  I've  beat  it  once  sence.  When  I  hove  anchor 
fin'lly,  he  says,  'Cap'n,  there's  nothin'  the  matter  with 
your  nerve,  is  there  ?'  I  told  him  no,  I  hadn't  had  to 
take  physic  for  it.  'Well,'  says  he,  'I'd  like  to  give 
you  the  job,  but  you  ain't  big  enough.  This  ain't 
anchor-draggin'.' 

"Then  I  got  after  him  again,  told  him  about  the 
new  schooner,  drew  a  diagram  of  the  shoal  and  made 
it  plain  jest  how  she'd  got  to  be  got  off  if  'twas  done 
at  all,  and  that  we  could  do  it  as  well  as  anybody  else 
in  the  world  and  a  whole  lot  cheaper.  At  last  he  told 
me  to  come  in  and  see  him  again  late  that  afternoon. 

"I  was  'round  on  time,  you  bet!  The  hay-lip  chap 
told  me  the  old  man  had  gone  for  the  day,  but  that 
he'd  left  word  that  'twas  no  use,  our  firm  wan't  big 
enough  for  the  job.  Says  I  to  hay-lip,  'Where's  the 


THE  CAPTAIN'S  GAMBLE          301 

old  man  live?'  He  didn't  know,  bein'  a  good  liar.  I 
asked  him,  in  an  interested  sort  of  way,  if  he  was  dead 
sure  where  he  lived  himself,  and  went  out  to  paw  over 
the  directory.  Inside  of  an  hour  I  was  on  an  electric 
car  bound  for  Brookline. 

"Talk  about  houses!  Those  Cooks  live  in  a  place 
that  makes  Barry's,  down  on  the  cliff  road,  look  like 
Peleg's  shanty.  I  sailed  up  forty  fathom  of  front 
steps  and  hove  taut  on  the  bell.  A  darky,  with  more 
brass  buttons  than  the  skipper  of  a  Cunarder,  come  to 
the  door.  Says  he,  'Your  card,  please.'  Says  I,  'Never 
mind  the  card;  Mr.  Cook  had  an  app'intment  with 
me  this  afternoon.'  Which  was  true,  you'll  notice. 
So  he  steered  me  into  a  room  that  was  as  full  of 
pictures  as  a  museum,  and  there  I  set  on  the  edge 
of  a  velvet  chair  and  tried  to  look  as  if  I  was  used 
to  it. 

"Pretty  soon  down  comes  Cook,  in  a  swaller-tail 
coat.  He  looked  mad.  'Is  it  you?'  he  says.  'Didn't 
you  git  my  message?'  I  told  him  I'd  got  it,  but  that 
'twouldn't  be  fair  to  him  to  let  that  end  it.  I  said 
that  on  purpose,  'cause  I  jedged,  from  what  you'd 
said  and  what  I'd  seen  myself,  that  the  way  to  git  on 
with  him  was  to  be  independent.  He  grinned  and 
then  I  commenced  to  talk.  And  how  I  did  talk!  The 
mornin'  sermon  wan't  within  a  mile  of  the  evenin' 
service.  I  told  him  flat-footed  how  much  the  contract 
meant  to  us  and  all  that.  Pretty  soon  young  Cook 
eorre  in  and  he  listened,  too. 

"Fin'lly  the  old  man  says,  'Well,  Titcomb,  what's 
your  figger?'  I  told  him  what  you  and  me  had  agreed 


302  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

on.  He  seemed  surprised,  I  thought.  Then  he  and 
his  son  went  into  the  next  room  and  talked.  When 
they  come  back,  he  says,  'Titcomb,  youVe  got  the  per- 
severance of  the  devil — or  that  partner  of  yours/ 
(Put  you  in  good  company,  hey,  Brad?)  'Your  price, 
I  don't  mind  tellin'  you,'  he  goes  on,  'is  lower  than 
anyone  else  has  given.  If  you  were  a  bigger  concern 
I  guess  I'd  give  the  job  to  you.  Anyway,  you  come  in 
and  see  me  to-morrer.' 

"Well,  this  mornin'  I  was  at  his  office  when  the 
doors  opened.  And  there  I  set  until  after  two  this 
aftfernoon.  A  feller  from  the  Salvage  Company  come 
in  while  I  was  there,  and  so  did  one  from  the  South 
Boston  tug  people.  They  went  into  Cook's  room  and 
come  out  again.  Fin'lly  the  old  man  sent  for  me. 
He  and  his  son  were  there  together.  'Titcomb,'  says 
he,  Tm  a  fool  and  I  know  it,  but  I'm  goin'  to  let  you 
try  to  git  the  Fre'edom  clear.'  ' 

Bradley,  who  had  listened  rather  impatiently  to 
this  long  yarn,  struck  the  table  with  his  hand. 
"Great!"  he  cried.  "Cap'n  Ez,  you're  a  wonder! 
Shake  hands!" 

But  the  Captain  did  not  shake.  Instead  he  looked 
at  the  floor.  "Wait  a  minute,  Brad,"  he  observed. 
"That  wan't  all  he  said.  He  went  on  to  tell  me  that 
in  givin'  us  the  job  he  w^as  riskin'  a  bran-new  vessel 
worth  eighty  thousand  dollars.  'Mind,'  he  says,  'I 
b'lieve  you  can  do  it  if  anybody  can,  but  I  won't  risk 
another  cent.  I  won't  pay  by  the  day.  I'll  give  you 
fifteen  thousand  when  she's  off  the  shoal  and  towed  to 
Boston ;  but  I  won't  pay  a  red  until  she  is.  It's  got  to 


THE  CAPTAIN'S  GAMBLE          303 

be  a  contract  job,  payment  on  delivery  of  the 
goods.'  " 

Bradley's  face  fell.  "Of  course  that  settled  it,"  he 
said.  "You  couldn't  accept  such  an  idiotic  offer  as 
that." 

Captain  Ezra  took  his  cigar  from  his  mouth. 
"Well,  Brad,"  he  answered,  soberly,  "that's  what  I 
did;  I  accepted  it." 

The  junior  partner  sprang  from  his  chair.  "Good 
Lord  above!"  he  cried.  "Man,  you're  crazy!" 

"Well  now,  Brad " 

1  'Well  now,  Cap'n  Ez !  Look  here !  you  and  I  have 
put  almost  our  last  copper  into  the  new  schooner. 
We've  got  practically  no  ready  money.  We  must  hire 
from  seventy  to  one  hundred  men  at  three  dollars  a 
day  and  pay  them  every  week.  We  must  feed  'em. 
We  must  spend  money  fitting  up  the  shanty  to  lodge 
'em  in.  It'll  take,  maybe,  a  month  before  we  get  her 
clear — if  we  do  clear  her.  We  may  have  to  spend  five 
or  six  thousand  before  then.  Where's  the  money  com- 
ing from?" 

"I  know  all  that.  We'll  mortgage  the  Diving  Belle 
and  raise  the  cash." 

"Are  you  out  of  your  head?  We've  been  lucky  so 
far  and  haven't  had  a  failure.  But  failures  are  bound 
to  come.  Suppose  we  work  on  this  barge  for  a  month 
and  then  a  heavy  gale  strikes — as  it's  likely  to  strike 
any  time  now;  just  the  season  for  it.  The  Freedom 
couldn't  stand  one  real  November  gale  on  that  shoal ; 
she'd  break  up  or  pound  the  bottom  out  of  her.  Then 
we've  lost  all  we've  spent;  the  schooner  would  be 


304  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

taken  to  pay  the  mortgage,  and  you  and  I — where 
would  we  be?" 

"But,  Brad,  think  of  what  it  means  to  us  if  we 
make  good." 

"Think  of  what  it  means  if  we  don't!  The  end  of 
Titcomb  and  Nickerson ;  that's  sure." 

"But  they'll  have  had  a  run  for  their  money.  Look 
here,  son!  'Twan't  kindness  and  love  for  you  and 
me  that  made  Cook  and  Son  give  us  this  contract. 
'Twas  'cause  our  price  was  low  and  'cause  they  know 
mighty  well  we  can  do  it  jest  as  well  as  the  biggest 
concern  on  earth.  It's  anchors  and  cables,  not  big 
tugs  and  lighters,  that'll  work  off  that  barge.  Cook 
says  heave  the  coal  overboard ;  don't  try  to  save  it." 

"Cap'n  Ez,  we  got  that  job  because  nobody  else 
would  take  it  that  way.  We  can  do  it  if  anybody  can, 
but  nobody  else  would  be  fool  enough  to  gamble 
against  the  Lord  Almighty's  weather.  We'd  be  called 
fools  from  here  to  Provincetown." 

"Not  if  we  win  out,  we  wouldn't." 

"Well,  it's  ridiculous  and  I  say  no." 

The  Captain  drew  a  long  breath.  "All  right,"  he 
said,  gloomily.  "Maybe  you're  right,  Brad.  It  is  a 
crazy  gamble,  I  s'pose,  and  I  was  afraid  you'd  see  it 
that  way.  Only  you  must  make  up  your  mind  to  this : 
if  we  give  up  this  chance  we  must  settle  back  and  be 
nothin'  but  anchor-draggers  the  rest  of  our  lives. 
We've  flunked  once,  and,  no  matter  how  good  the 
reason  is,  no  more  big  jobs'll  come  our  way.  But,  if 
we  make  good — whew !" 

Now  it  was  Bradley's  turn  to  hesitate.    There  was 


THE  CAPTAIN'S  GAMBLE          305 

some  sense  in  what  his  partner  said.  But  it  was  play- 
ing against  odds  and  with  the  last  dollar  on  the  table. 
Obed  Nickerson  had  given  him  a  hint  of  what  the 
townsfolk  would  think  of  it. 

The  Captain  noticed  the  hesitation.  "I've  done 
nothin'  but  go  over  the  thing  sence  I  left  Cook's 
office,"  he  said.  "But,  the  way  I'm  built,  I'd  rather 
go  back  to  the  coastin'  trade  than  be  a  one-hoss 
wrecker.  Either  I'll  be  the  real  thing  or  nothin',  and 
I'm  ready  to  take  the  chance.  But  you're  ha'f  owner 
— or  pretty  nigh  ha'f — and  what  you  say  goes." 

It  was  that  pretty  nigh  that  influenced  Bradley. 
He  realized  that  all  he  was,  in  a  business  sense,  he 
owed  to  the  Captain.  And  the  latter  had  more  money 
invested  in  the  company  than  he  had.  Then,  too,  the 
thought  of  Gus  came  to  him.  It  was  for  her  that  he 
had  worked  and  hoped  and  planned.  Now  that  she 
didn't  care,  why  should  he  care  either?  He  sat  still, 
thinking,  and  the  Captain,  too,  was  silent. 

Suddenly  Bradley  spoke.  "Oh,  hang  it !  what's  the 
odds?"  he  exclaimed,  recklessly.  "Go  ahead,  Cap'n! 
I'll  sink  or  swim  with  you !" 

Captain  Ezra  grasped  his  hand.  "I  swore  you 
would,"  he  cried.  "Son,  this  job's  goin'  to  make  us !" 

Bradley's  laugh  was  short  and  rather  bitter. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "make— or  break." 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

WORK  AND  WORRY. 

IT  was  close  to  daybreak  when  the  partners  sepa- 
rated.    They  had  planned  and  figured  and 
estimated,  and  each  now  knew  what  his  part 
in  the  great  fight  was  to  be.     As  he  was  leaving 
Bradley  asked  the  Captain  how,  in  his  opinion,  Obed 
Nickerson  had  learned  that  they  had  the  contract. 

"  Thoned  the  Salvage  Company,"  replied  Captain 
Ezra,  decidedly.  "I'll  bet  on  it.  You  see,  Brad,  this 
job's  a  big  one  and  the  Salvage  folks  might  have  fig- 
gered  there  was  sugar  enough  in  it  to  drop  a  lump  In 

306 


rr/ORK  AND  WORRY  307 

friend  Obed's  teacup  providin'  he  stirred  up  their 
spoon.  Well,  good  night — or  good  mornin',  rather. 
It's  double  or  quits  with  us  this  time,  son,  for  sartin, 
but  if  Titcomb  and  Nickerson  do  go  under  it'll  be 
with  colors  flyinV 

Within  the  week  Setuckit  Point,  from  a  lonely, 
gull-haunted  sand  spit,  inhabited  only  by  the  life  sav- 
ing crew  and  the  lighthouse  keeper  and  his  family, 
became  a  small  town,  the  population  of  which  left 
each  morning  for  the  Razorback  shoal  and  returned 
at  night  to  sleep  and  eat  in  the  big  shanty  and  those 
surrounding  it. 

Captain  Titcomb  saw  the  people  at  the  Wellmouth 
Bank  and  placed  a  mortgage  on  the  Diving  Belle.  As 
the  partners  owned  her  free  and  clear,  he  was  able  to 
get  her  cost  price,  five  thousand  dollars. 

Placards  announcing  that  men  were  wanted  at 
once,  and  at  three  dollars  a  day  and  board,  were  hung 
in  the  post-offices  and  railway  stations  in  Orham, 
South  Orham,  West  Harniss,  Harniss  Centre,  Well- 
mouth  and  other  towns.  Also  an  advertisement  ap- 
peared in  the  Item.  The  response  was  immediate. 
Work  at  good  wages  was  scarce  in  the  winter  months 
and  men  came  from  twenty  miles  away  to  obtain  it. 

The  Diving  Belle  carried  them  down  to  the  Point. 
There,  under  Barney  Small's  supervision,  some  set  to 
work  building  extra  bunks  in  the  big  shanty,  slinging 
hammocks,  putting  up  stoves — the  partners  bought 
five  second-hand  ranges — and  making  three  neighbor- 
ing abandoned  fishing  huts  inhabitable.  The  rest 
worked  over  the  stranded  coal  barge,  getting  out  the 


308  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

anchors,  stripping  her  of  all  unnecessary  iron  work 
and  rigging,  and  preparing  to  bring  the  coal  from  her 
hold  and  dump  it  overboard. 

Seventy  men  were  hired  altogether,  and  to  feed 
them  it  was  necessary  to  buy  large  quantities  of  pro- 
visions. Captain  Titcomb  managed  this  part  of  the 
business  and  the  bargains  he  made  with  Caleb  Weeks 
and  other  storekeepers  were  wonderful,  and,  in  some 
cases,  not  too  profitable  for  the  sellers.  As  Mr.  Weeks 
said:  "Ez  Titcomb  spent  ha'f  the  forenoon  with  me 
to-day,  and  afore  he  got  through  talkin'  he'd  tangled 
me  up  so  with  figgers  that  I  don't  know  whether  I  sold 
him  salt  at  a  cent  a  pound  or  corn  meal  at  a  dollar  a 
barrel.  I'll  have  to  put  in  the  rest  of  the  day  cal'latin' 
and  addin'  up,  so's  to  know  whether  I've  made  money 
or  lost  it." 

Soon  the  work  on  the  Freedom  was  in  full  swing 
and  the  great  hull  hummed  like  a  bee-hive.  Men 
were  standing  by  the  hatches  and  by  the  derricks. 
Men  were  working  by  the  rail  transferring  ropes  and 
ironwork  to  the  Diving  Belle.  Down  in  the  hold 
gangs  of  men,  with  faces  sooty  black  except  where  the 
sweat  streaked  them  with  pallid  channels,  were  shov- 
elling the  coal  into  the  big  iron  buckets  that  the  creak- 
ing derricks  lifted  and  swung  over  the  side.  The 
donkey  engines  puffed  and  whistled,  the  chains  rat- 
tled, and  ton  after  ton  of  good  hard  coal  roared  from 
the  opening  buckets  and  splashed  into  the  tumbling 
waves  of  the  channel. 

The  Captain  and  Bradley,  together  for  a  moment, 
stood  in  the  bows,  where  the  heavy  cable  led,  taut  and 


WORK  AND  WORRY  309 

rigid,  from  the  windlass,  out  to  the  submerged  an- 
chors. The  Freedom  had  moved  slightly  in  the  last 
few  days  and  the  partners  were  encouraged. 

"By  crimus,  Brad!"  exclaimed  Captain  Titcomb, 
pointing  with  a  grin  on  his  grimy  face,  to  the  stout 
little  Diving  Belle  just  then  shooting  off  to  the  Point 
with  a  load  of  strippings  from  the  Freedom;  "that's 
the  little  critter  that  has  made  it  possible  for  us  to 
handle  this  job.  I  don't  know  what  we'd  a-done  if  we 
hadn't  had  her.  See  her  go,  will  you?  Flies  'round 
like  a  flea  in  a  fryin'  pan,  don't  she?  You  never  put 
your  money  into  anything  better  for  the  size  than  her, 
and  don't  you  let  that  fact  slip  your  mem'ry." 

The  new  schooner  had  proved  her  worth  twice 
over.  Equipped  as  she  was,  with  the  engine,  she  per- 
formed the  part  of  a  steam  launch,  a  tug  and  a  ferry- 
boat. She  had  carried  out  and  dropped  the  anchors 
in  the  channel ;  she  took  her  owners  and  a  few  of  the 
hands  to  and  from  Orham  every  night  and  morning; 
she  was  always  ready  and  always  useful.  In  fact,  as 
the  Captain  said,  they  could  scarcely  have  handled  the 
job  without  her. 

Bradley,  dirty  and  bareheaded,  looked  at  the  little 
vessel. 

"I  shan't  feel  easy  until  we  pay  off  that  mortgage," 
he  said.  "And,  another  thing,  you  mustn't  forget  to 
see  Obed  and  close  that  insurance  deal.  It  worries  me 
to  think  she  is  not  protected  at  all." 

' 'That's  so.  Fact  is,  I've  been  so  everlastin'  busy 
lately  that  I'd  forgit  to  eat  if  I  hadn't  got  in  the  habit 
of  it.  But  I  must  settle  that  right  off.  The  only 


3io  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

thing  that's  kept  it  from  goin'  through  afore  is  on  ac- 
count of  that  dynamite  in  the  hold.  The  papers 
are  ready,  only  Obed  won't  dicker  until  we  take 
that  stuff  off;  his  comp'ny  won't  insure  against  ex- 
plosives." 

A  little  of  the  dynamite  that  they  had  been  using  in 
blowing  up  the  hulk  containing  the  tar  was  still  stored 
in  the  Diving  Belle's  hold.  Captain  Titcomb  had 
promised  to  see  that  it  was  taken  ashore,  but  he  al- 
ways forgot  it.  Bradley  would,  himself,  have  at- 
tended to  the  matter,  but  the  Captain  seemed  to  take 
the  offer  as  a  personal  reflection  on  his  own  manage- 
ment. It  was  the  same  with  the  insurance.  Anything 
that  the  Captain  undertook  to  do  he  hated  to  give  up 
to  another. 

"Don't  you  want  me  to  attend  to  that  dynamite?" 
asked  the  junior  partner. 

"No,  no;  I'll  'tend  to  it  myself.  Told  you  I  would, 
didn't  I?" 

Bradley  saw  that  it  was  time  to  change  the  subject. 
He  looked  across  the  ocean  to  the  horizon.  The  air 
was  clear  and  cold  and  the  November  sunlight  lay 
upon  the  water  with  a  steely  metallic  glitter  that  had 
no  warmth  in  it. 

"Wind  to  the  south'ard,"  he  observed,  "and  seems 
likely  to  hold  that  way.  If  it  only  holds  fair  long 
enough  we'll  win  out  yet." 

"Where's  that  special  weather  bureau  of  ours?" 
asked  the  Captain.  "Ain't  had  a  prophecy  for  two 
days  or  more."  He  stepped  to  the  hatchway.  "Hi ! 
Peleg !"  he  shouted.  "Peleg  Myrick,  ahoy !" 


WORK  AND  WQRR  Y  311 

A  distant  voice  from  the  hold  replied  that  Peleg 
was  aboard  the  Diving  Belle. 

"That's  so,"  said  Captain  Titcomb.  "So  he  is. 
Well,  we'll  see  him  later." 

When  the  schooner  again  ran  alongside  the  barge 
Mr.  Myrick  was  summoned  and  clambered  on 
board.  The  weather  prophet  had  coal  dust  in 
his  nostrils,  in  his  mouth,  and  in  decorative 
smouches  on  his  cheeks.  As  for  his  whiskers,  the 
red  and  gray  had  disappeared ;  they  were  now  a  solid 
black. 

"Peleg,"  observed  the  Captain,  "does  Skeezicks 
know  you  when  you  git  home  nowadays?" 

"Know  me?"  repeated  the  astonished  owner  of  the 
dog  that  was  just  like  a  human.  "Know  me!  Course 
he  does." 

"Well,  I  didn't  know.  You  look  so  much  like  a 
cross  between  a  darky  and  a  Kickapoo  Sagwa  peddler 
in  his  war  paint  that  I  shouldn't  think  your  mother'd 
know  you,  let  alone  a  dog." 

Mr.  Myrick  pondered.  "Well,  you  see,"  he  replied 
slowly,  "mother  she's  been  dead  for  a  consider'ble 
spell,  and  Skeezicks " 

"Skeezicks  ain't.  I  see.  That's  the  best  reason  I 
know  of.  Say  I  how  about  gales  ?  Got  any  marked 
on  the  calendar?" 

The  prophet's  dreamy  gaze  wandered  mournfully 
to  the  sky. 

"No,"  he  drawled;  "I  don't  cal'late  there'll  be  a 
storm  for  the  next  week.  After  that — wall,  I  don't 
know.  I've  been  havin'  a  feelin'  that  the  weather'd 


3i2  PAR  TNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

shift,  but  p'raps  'twon't.  Still,  I'm  kind  of  scart — 
kind  of  scart  of  the  week  after  next." 

Captain  Titcomb  looked  troubled.  "Thunder!" 
he  muttered.  "I  swan  I  hope  that  ain't  so!" 

Bradley  looked  at  him  in  puzzled  surprise. 

"Now,  honest,  Cap'n  Ez,"  he  exclaimed.  "You 
aren't  worried  because  that  haFf-baked  chap  says — 
here,  Peleg!  come  back  here  a  minute.  Say,  how  do 
you  get  your  tips  on  the  weather?" 

Mr.  Myrick  hesitated  and  looked  troubled. 
"Wall"  he  replied,  "I— I— you  see,  I  don't  gin'rally 
tell  that  'cause  folks  laugh  at  me.  But,  bein'  as  you're 
my  boss,  I  s'pose  I  ought  to  tell  you  a  little.  You  see, 
I  jest  sort  of  feel  it  in  my  bones." 

"Any  particular  bones?" 

"Why,  my  laig  bones  mostly.  If  a  no'theaster's 
comin'  my  right  laig  sort  of  aches,  and  if  it's  a  sou'- 
easter it'll  fetch  me  in  the  left  one.  Then  there's 
other " 

Bradley  interrupted  him  by  a  roar  of  laughter.  The 
prophet  looked  hurt. 

"There !"  he  sighed.    "I  knew  you'd  laff." 

"All  right,  Peleg;  trot  along.  There,  Cap'n  Ez, 
does  that  satisfy  you?" 

The  Captain  laughed,  too,  but  he  shook  his  head. 

"I  don't  know,"  he  replied.  "Them  leg  bones  of 
Peleg's  seem  to  have  been  pretty*  good  barometers 
afore  now.  Well,  what  is  to  be  will  be,  as  the  fellow 
with  dyspepsy  said  when  he  tackled  the  mince  pie. 
My!  this  won't  do  for  me,  nor  for  you  either, 
Brad." 


WORK  AND  WORR  Y  313 

They  separated  to  plunge  again  into  their  work. 
But  Bradley's  hint  about  the  dynamite  still  troubled 
Captain  Titcomb's  conscience.  When  the  Diving  Belle 
came  back  from  her  next  trip  to  the  beach  he  hailed 
Peleg,  and,  calling  him  to  him,  said: 

"Peleg,  I've  got  a  job  for  you.  I  want  you  to  git 
out  that  dynamite  we've  got  in  the  hold  for'ard,  and 
take  it  ashore  some'eres." 

Now,  that  dynamite  was  Mr.  Myrick's  particular 
dread.  He  was  more  afraid  of  it  than  he  was  of  any- 
thing else  on  earth.  The  Captain  knew  this,  and  that 
was  why  he  always  selected  Peleg  to  bring  up  a  stick 
of  the  stuff  when  the  latter  was  needed.  "It's  the 
scared  man  that's  always  careful,"  said  the  skipper. 
"Peleg  hangs  to  them  sticks  like  a  sucker  to  a  barn 
door.  He  won't  drop  'em,  unless  his  knee  j'ints  rattle 
loose  altogether  from  nervousness." 

When  the  weather  prophet  heard  the  Captain's  or- 
der the  visible  parts  of  his  countenance  turned  white. 

"Oh,  my  soul  and  body!"  he  gasped.  "You  don't 
want  me  to  tech  them  pesky  things,  do  you,  Cap'n 
Ez?  Git  somebody  else;  do!" 

"No,"  replied  the  skipper,  gravely.  "I  wouldn't 
trust  nobody  else.  Tumble  'em  out !" 

"Tumble  'em  out !  Don't  talk  in  that  careless  kind 
of  way,  Cap'n  Ez.  What'll  I  do  with  'em?" 

"Oh !  dig  a  hole  and  bury  'em;  put  'em  under  your 
bunk  in  the  shanty;  feed  'em  to  Skeezicks;  only  git 
'em  out  of  the  schooner  sometime  pretty  soon." 

"Will— will  Sunday  do?" 

"Yes,  yes !  whenever  you  have  the  time.    Hi !  Sam 


3 1 4  PAR  TNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

Hammond,  what  are  you  settin'  there  for?  Git  back 
to  your  engine." 

Mr.  Hammond  was  still  with  them,  although  his 
usefulness  as  a  diver  was  gone,  owing  to  the  tempo- 
rary abandonment  of  the  tar  venture.  But,  because 
they  anticipated  returning  to  this  work  if  the  Freedom 
should  be  floated,  he  was  retained  at  his  old  wages 
and  was  now  running  one  of  the  hoisting  engines,  a 
labor  with  which  he  was  more  or  less  familiar,  al- 
though he  considered  it  beneath  him  and  shirked 
whenever  he  could. 

This  shirking  irritated  Captain  Titcomb. 

"Consarn  him!"  he  growled.  "Let  him  either  fish 
or  cut  bait,  one  or  t'other.  If  he's  too  good  for  the 
job,  why,  then,  the  job's  too  good  for  him.  If  I  had 
my  way  we'd  come  to  a  settlement  in  about  ha'f  a 
shake." 

The  majority  of  the  meft  hired  by  the  partners  were 
intensely  loyal  and  thoroughly  optimistic;  they  knew 
the  circumstances  under  which  the  contract  had  been 
taken  and  would  not  consider  the  possibility  of  failure 
for  a  moment.  But  Hammond  was  the  head  of  a 
little  coterie  of  pessimists,  among  whom  were  Henry 
Simmons  and  a  few  others  from  Orham,  and  uLon" 
Clark  and  "Ike"  Bodkin  from  Harniss.  These  croak- 
ers sneered  at  Captain  Ezra  when  his  back  was  turned 
and  pretended  to  pity  Bradley.  When  the  pay  enve- 
lopes were  distributed  they  congratulated  themselves 
loudly  and  wondered  if  this  time  was  the  last. 

Bradley  was  aware  of  all  this,  because  Barney  told 
him,  but  he  would  not  permit  his  partner  to  call  Ham- 


WORK  AND  WORRY  315 

mond  to  account.  Sam  should  not  have  the  oppor- 
tunity of  telling  Gus  that  he  was  the  victim  of  perse- 
cution by  an  unsuccessful  rival;  not  if  Bradley  could 
help  it,  he  shouldn't.  Captain  Titcomb  understood, 
and  so  Sam  was  not  reproved  and  grew  more  and 
more  intolerable. 

All  day  long  the  Freedom's  deck  was  a  whirl  of 
industry.  The  Captain  and  Bradley  were  always  in 
the  thick  of  it,  and  were  dog  tired  when  six  o'clock 
came.  Then  the  cable  was  tightened  and  chocked, 
the  watch  was  set  and  most  of  the  crews  were  trans- 
ferred in  relays  to  the  beach,  to  eat  supper  in  the 
shanty  and  shout,  sing  and  play  cards  until  bedtime. 
The  partners,  with  Hammond,  Bearse  and  a  few 
others,  went  up  to  Orham  in  the  Diving  Belle. 

The  "old  maids"  had  been  very  solemn  of  late. 
When  Bradley  first  told  them  that  his  firm  had  se- 
cured the  biggest  wrecking  contract  ever  handled  by 
Orham  men  they  were  jubilant.  But  then  came  Miss 
Busteed,  brimming  over — like  a  sort  of  living  "extra" 
— with  exaggerated  reports  of  village  opinion  con- 
cerning that  contract,  and  the  sisters  began  to  worry. 
Other  callers,  whose  views  were  more  weighty  than 
Melissa's,  came  also,  and  now  even  Miss  Prissy  was 
nervously  anxious. 

Bradley  went  to  bed  early  nowadays.  On  the  night 
following  the  conversation  with  Peleg  he  took  his 
lamp  from  the  shelf  soon  after  supper  was  cleared 
away.  Captain  Titcomb  called,  but  remained  only  a 
little  while. 

&s  the  young  man  rose  from  his  chair  Miss  Prissy, 


316  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

who  had  been  watching  him  over  her  glasses  while 
pretending  to  mend  some  stockings,  dropped  the  work 
in  her  lap,  and  asked,  "Bradley,  how  are  you  gettin' 
on  down  at  the  Point  ?" 

"Tip  top,"  was  the  reply. 

"Yes,  you  always  say  that;  but  are  you  gainin'  as 
fast  as  you  ought  to?  You  don't  think  there's  any — 
any  chance  of  your  not  bein'  able  to  git  that  vessel 
off,  do  you  ?  Folks  seem  to  think " 

Bradley  laughed.  "Has  Melissa  been  here  to- 
day?" he  interrupted. 

"No,  she  hasn't,  but  Mr.  Langworthy  has.  Oh, 
Bradley,  we  hear  such  dreadful  things.  Mr.  Lang- 
worthy  came  here  almost  on  purpose  to  try  to  git  us  tfl 
coax  you  to  give  it  up  'fore  it's  too  late.  He  says  the 
whole  town  thinks  you  can't  carry  it  through.  Men 
that  know  all  about  wreckin'  say " 

"Who  says— the  Jeremiah  Club?"  The  "Jeremiah 
Club"  was  Captain  Titcomb's  name  for  the  daily 
gathering  about  the  stove  in  Weeks'  store. 

"No,  indeed !  Men  like  Cap'n  Jonadab  Wixon 
and  Mr.  Wingate  and  lots  more.  They  say  that 
you've  mortgaged  your  vessel  and  that  if  you  fail 
you'll  be  ruined — absolutely  ruined.  They  lay  it  all 
to  Cap'n  Ezra.  Of  course  Tempy  and  me  stand  up 
for  you  and  the  Cap'n  and  pretend  we  ain't  a  mite 
anxious.  But,  oh  Bradley,  if  any  such  awful  thing 
should  happen  to  you — to  our  boy — 'twould  break 
our  hearts." 

Bradley  felt  a  pang  of  self-reproach.  Miss  Prissy's 
eyes  were  wet  and  the  tears  were  running  down  Miss 


WORK  AND  WORK  Y  317 

Tempy's  cheeks.  He  was  very  grave  as  he  an- 
swered. 

"Miss  Prissy,"  he  said,  "please  don't  worry.  I 
know  how  people  are  talking,  but  honestly  and  truly 
I  think  we  shall  succeed.  If  we  do,  it  means  every- 
thing to  us.  If  we  don't — well,  whatever  happens,  if 
God  lets  me  live,  you  and  Miss  Tempy  shall  never 
suffer.  I  owe  everything  in  the  world  to  you.  I'll 
promise  you  something  else,  too:  If  we  win  out  now, 
I'll  never  take  another  contract  where  the  risk  is  as 
big  as  this.  Now,  good  night,  and  to  please  me,  don't 
worry  any  more." 

As  he  was  leaving  the  room  Miss  Tempy  said,  tim- 
idly, "Bradley,  you  don't  go  to  prayer-meetin'  any 
more.  Prissy  and  me  pray  for  you  every  night.  I 
hope  you  won't  let  your  bus'ness  crowd  out  your  re- 
ligion." 

Bradley  shook  his  head,  answered  hurriedly  that 
he  was  working  hard  nowadays  and  was  tired,  and 
went  up  to  his  room.  The  last  time  he  had  been  to 
prayer-meeting  Gus  went  with  him.  He  had  no  wish 
to  go  there  now,  and  perhaps  see  her  in  Sam's  com- 
pany. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

MR.   SAM   HAMMOND. 

AT  that  very  moment  Mr.  Hammond,  seated 
on  the  fence  by  the  vestry  door,  was  puffing 
at  a  cigar  and  talking  in  an  unusually  loud 
voice  of  New  York  and  his  experiences  there.     He 
seemed  to  be  very  happy  and  his  boisterous  laughter 
penetrated  even  to  the  little  company  of  worshippers 
on  the  settees  inside. 

When  the  meeting  was  over  he  threw  away  the 
stump  of  his  cigar  and  shouldered  himself  into  the 
front  row  of  waiting  swains  by  the  door.  As  Gus 
came  out  he  stepped  forward  to  meet  her,  and  in  do- 
ing so  bumped  against  Mrs.  Piper,  who,  looking  the 
other  way,  had  not  seen  him,  and,  being  deaf,  had  not 
heard  his  step. 

318 


MR.  SAM  HAMMOND  319 

"Gracious  sakes  alive !"  exclaimed  the  old  lady, 
rubbing  her  shoulder.  "Excuse  me,  Mr.  Hammond, 
I  didn't  see  you." 

Sam  nodded  serenely.  "Don't  mention  it,"  he 
shouted,  winking  over  his  shoulder  at  Georgiana 
Bailey.  "You  didn't  hurt  me  a  bit." 

Georgiana  giggled,  and  most  of  the  young  men 
grinned  at  the  joke.  Gus  glanced  hurriedly  at  Mrs. 
Piper  and  then  at  Hammond.  She  looked  surprised 
and  troubled. 

Sam  took  her  arm  without  asking  permission  and 
led  her  to  the  sidewalk.  She  still  looked  back. 

"I'm  afraid  you  hurt  Mrs.  Piper,"  she  said.  "What 
made  you  so  rough?" 

Her  escort  laughed.  "I  guess  it  won't  be  fatal," 
he  observed.  "If  I'd  managed  to  fracture  that  voice 
of  hers  so's  she  couldn't  sing,  maybe  the  congregation 
would  give  me  a  vote  of  thanks." 

Gus  didn't  reply.  There  was  something  in  her 
companion's  manner  that  made  her  recoil  instinctive- 
ly. She  disengaged  her  arm  from  his,  but  he  took  it 
again  and  walked  on,  joking  and  laughing. 

"What  a  crowd  of  jays  there  is  in  this  town,"  he 
remarked  after  a  while,  and,  with  a  sneer,  "enough 
to  stock  a  dime  museum." 

He  had  always  spoken  patronizingly  of  the  towns- 
people— that  she  had  not  minded  so  much,  coming 
from  a  city  man,  but  heretofore  he  had  not  openly 
made  fun  of  them.  She  resented  the  remark,  but 
most  of  all  the  tone  in  which  it  was  uttered. 

"Why  do  you  stay  here  then?"  she  asked,  coldly. 


320  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

"Why?  I  guess  you  know  the  reason  all  right. 
Don't  you,  Gus?  Hey?" 

He  chuckled  and  bent  down  to  look  in  her  face. 
She  shivered  and  drew  away  from  him. 

His  hand  upon  her  arm,  the  look  he  had  just  given 
her,  his  air  of  assumed  proprietorship — above  allv 
that  new  and  vulgar  something  in  his  manner,  as  if 
the  real  soul  of  the  man  was  showing  for  the  first 
time,  filled  her  with  disgust. 

She  did  not  speak  again  until  they  reached  the  gate. 
Then  she  said,  without  looking  at  him,  "Good  night." 

He  put  his  hand  over  hers  on  the  latch.  "Oh,  say," 
he  exclaimed,  with  a  laugh,  "this  isn't  a  square  deal, 
Gus.  Aren't  you  goin'  to  ask  me  in?" 

She  tried  to  snatch  her  hand  away,  but  he  held  it 
fast,  and,  leaning  across  the  gate,  threw  his  arm  about 
her  waist  and  drew  her  to  him. 

"There!"  he  cried,  exultantly,  "this  is  more  like  it. 
This  is  more  like  friends.  Give  us  a  kiss.  You're  too 
high  and  mighty  to  be  the  prettiest  girl  on  the  Cape.H 

She  struggled  from  his  grasp  and  stood  panting. 
"Oh!"  she  whispered,  with  a  shudder,  as  she  realized 
the  truth.  "Oh,  youVe  been  drinking!" 

He  laughed  foolishly  and  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
"Oh,  what's  one  glass  between  friends?"  he  said.  "I 
stopped  into  Web's  a  minute  and  he  set  'em  up.  First 
drink  I've  had  since  I  left  New  York.  Thought  you 
was  too  sensible  to  have  blue  ribbon  notions.  Come; 
be  more  sociable — that's  a  good  girl." 

She  was  afraid  of  him  now,  not  afraid  of  physical 
violence,  but  as  she  would  have  feared  the  contact 


MR.  SAM  HAMMOND  321 

with  something  loathsome  and  unclean.  A  sense  of 
utter  loneliness  came  over  her.  She  longed  for  pro- 
tection and  help.  She  thought  of  Bradley;  he  would 
have  helped  her;  she  could  have  trusted  him.  But  she 
had  driven  him  out  of  her  life,  and  this  fellow  - 
"Go!"  she  cried. 


Sam  ceased  to  smile.  Other  girls  had  told  him  to 
go,  but  never  in  that  way  or  with  such  quivering 
scorn.  He  began  to  realize  that  this  was  the  end  of 
his  game;  he  had  lost  the  prize.  But  he  made  one 
more  effort. 

"Oh,  say,"  he  cried.  "Don't  get  mad,  Gus.  I  was 
only  fooling.  Don't  be  such  an  old  maid.  Come 
here." 

She  turned  on  her  heel  and,  without  replying,  walk- 
ed toward  the  house.  Hammond  swore  between  his 
teeth,  opened  the  gate,  took  one  step  in  her  direction, 
and  then  stopped.  He  laughed  a  short,  ugly  laugh, 
and  nodded. 

"You  mean  it,  do  you?"  he  asked.  "Want  me  to 
clear  out,  hey?  Well,  don't  you  fool  yourself  that  I 
don't  know  what  ails  you.  You  can't  come  the  high 
moral  game  on  me,  my  lady.  You're  whining  after 
that  sneaking  Sunday-school  kid,  Brad  Nickerson,  the 
fellow  that  didn't  care  enough  about  you  to  lift  his 
hand,  but  stood  still  and  let  me  walk  off  with  his  girl, 
as  if  she  was  as  common  as  dishwater.  The  whole 
town  thinks  you're  going  to  marry  me.  What'll  they 
say  when  I  show  'em  I'm  done  with  you  ?"  He  laugh- 
ed again  and  put  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 

"I'm  going,"  he  said.    "I'm  going  all  right.    You 


322  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

go  to  bed  and  dream  about  Brad.    Dreams  come  true 
sometimes,  they  say.     Maybe  I'll  dream  about  him, 


too." 


He  pulled  his  hat  over  his  eyes  and  walked  rapidly 
away.  Gus  watched  him  go.  Then  she  went  into  the 
house,  threw  herself  into  a  chair  beside  the  table  and 
laid  her  head  upon  her  arms. 

Sam  plunged  straight  on  through  the  mud  and  wet 
grass  until  he  reached  the  back  door  of  the  billiard- 
room.  Web  Saunders  came  hurrying  to  see  who  it 
was  that  had  knocked:  only  the  tried  and  true  were 
admitted  at  that  door. 

"Hello,  Sam!"  he  exclaimed,  with  a  look  of  relief. 
"Why,  what's  the  matter?" 

"Nothing,"  replied  Hammond  gruffly.  "Where's 
that  jug  of  yours,  Web?  I'm  dying  for  another 
drink." 

After  cautioning  his  visitor  against  speaking  so 
loud,  Mr.  Saunders  indicated  the  whereabouts  of  the 
jug.  Sam  poured  out  a  liberal  dose  of  the  villainous 
cheap  whiskey  and  drank  it  forthwith.  Then  he 
poured  out  another. 

He  refused  to  go  home  that  night  and  Web  put 
him  to  bed  upon  one  of  the  settees  in  the  little  back 
room.  And  in  chat  back  room  he  stayed  throughout 
the  next  day,  drinking  frequently,  in  spite  of  his 
friend's  protests,  and  growing  more  ugly  with  every 
drink. 

That  next  day,  Friday,  was  wet  and  foggy,  with 
occasional  cold  showers,  but  there  was  no  wind  worth 
mentioning  and  the  wreckers  put  in  ten  hours  of  the 


MR.  SAM  HAMMOND  323 

hardest  kind  of  work.  The  Freedom  had  moved  per- 
ceptibly in  the  sweep  of  the  latest  tides  and  the  part- 
ners were  happy  in  consequence. 

It  was  dark,  though  a  few  stars  were  showing 
dimly  through  the  mist  overhead,  when  the  Diving 
Belle  entered  Orham  Harbor  that  evening.  Alvin 
.Bearse  was  at  the  helm,  and  he  brought  the  schooner 
alongside  the  wharf.  A  half-dozen  men — the  only 
members  of  the  wrecking  gang  who  returned  to  Or- 
ham at  the  end  of  the  day's  work — climbed  over  the 
stringpiece  and  departed  for  their  homes  in  the  vil- 
lage. Bearse  remained  on  board  when  the  vessel  ran 
out  to  her  moorings,  to  help  his  employers  make  snug 
for  the  night. 

A  few  minutes  later  Bradley  stood  by  the  cabin 
door,  with  a  lantern  in  his  hand.  Alvin  and  the  Cap- 
tain were  forward.  Suddenly  the  junior  partner  was 
aware  that  some  one  was  standing  beside  him. 

"Well,  Cap'n  Ez,"  he  observed;  "all  ready  to  go 
ashore?* 

There  was  no  wwwer.  He  looked  up — into  the 
face  of  Sam  Hammond.  The  diver  wore  no  over- 
coat. His  stiff  hat,  battered  and  muddy,  was  pushed 
back  on  his  head.  His  face,  under  the  tumbled,  damp 
»hair  on  the  forehead,  was  flushed  and  scowling,  and 
fiis  half-shut  eyes  had  an'  ugly  glimmer.  Even  in  the 
dim  light  of  the  lantern  his  condition  was  unmistaka- 
ble. 

Hammond's  behavior  in  his  native  village  had 
heretofore  been  of  the  best,  so  far  as  this  particular 
vice  was  concerned.  Bradley  was  dumbfounded. 


324  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

"Hello,  Sam !"  he  exclaimed.  "Where'd  you  come 
from?" 

"Off  the  wharf,"  was  the  gruff  answer.  "Where'd 
you  think,  you  fool?" 

It  was  evident  that  the  fellow  was  spoiling  for  a 
fight.  Bradley,  however,  had  no  wish  to  quarrel  with 
a  drunken  man,  especially  this  one. 

"All  right,  all  right,"  he  said,  mechanically,  "I 
didn't  see  you  come  aboard,  that's  all.  Want  to  see 
Cap'nEz?" 

"No,  I  don't  want  to  see  Cap'n  Ez  nor  any  other 
'longshore  thief  but  you.  I  want  to  go  below  and  get 
my  things." 

"Your  things?" 

"Yes,  my  things.  My  oilskins  and  the  rest  of  my 
stuff.  I  wouldn't  leave  'em  aboard  this  rotten  tub 
another  minute  for  a  million  dollars." 

"Oh,  very  well."  Bradley  swung  open  the  cabin 
door  and  started  to  lead  the  way  with  the  lantern. 
Hammond  shoved  him  aside. 

"I'll  go  alone,"  he  muttered. 

"You  can't  see  without  the  lantern.  You'll  have  to 
go  with  me  or  wait  till  to-morrow  morning." 

"Give  me  that  lantern,"  snarled  Sam,  making  a 
grab  for  it. 

Bradley  held  it  out  of  reach. 

"You're  not  fit  to  carry  it,"  he  said,  shortly. 

"You  mealy-mouthed  sneak!"  shouted  Hammond. 
"I'm  fit  to  fix  you." 

Bradley  saw  the  blow  coming.  He  dropped  the 
lantern  and  ducked.  Next  instant  Sam  was  upon  him, 


MR.  SAM  HAMMOND  325 

screaming  and  cursing.  They  tripped  over  the  swing- 
ing door  and  fell  to  the  deck.  Alvin  and  Captain  Tit- 
comb  came  running  from  the  fo'castle. 

"What  in  the  nation ?"  cried  the  Captain. 

"Here,  quit  that,  you  !  Let  him  alone,  Brad !" 

Hammond  yelled  and  fought  as  they  dragged  him 
to  his  feet.  Finally,  overpowered,  he  sobbed  in  maud- 
lin fury. 

"There !  that'll  do  for  you,"  observed  the  Captain, 
clapping  a  big  hand  over  his  prisoner's  mouth.  "Crazy 
tight,  ain't  he  ?  Hold  still,  or,  by  the  everlastin'  hook- 
blocks,  I'll  heave  you  overboard!  Where'd  he  come 
from?" 

"Must  have  come  aboard  when  we  stopped  at  the 
wharf,"  replied  Bradley.  "He  was  dead  set  on  tak- 
ing the  lantern  and  going  below  after  his  oilskins  and 
stuff." 

"Sooner  trust  a  blind  cripple  with  a  lantern.  Chuck 
his  dunnage  ashore  to-morrer  mornin'.  Now  then," 
turning  to  Hammond,  "will  you  walk  to  the  dory  or 
shall  we  carry  you?  Shut  up  !  You've  cussed  enough." 

He  led  the  way  to  the  side,  holding  Sam  by  the  coat 
collar.  Bradley  followed. 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  the  skipper,  stopping  short. 
"Didn't  shut  that  cabin  door,  did  you,  Brad?  I've 
left  that  blasted  key  somewheres,  and  if  that  spring 
lock's  snapped  shut  we'll  be  in  a  mess.  No?  Well, 
all  right  then." 

They  got  into  the  dory  and  Bradley  took  up  the 
oars.  Bearse  sat  on  the  bow  thwart,  while  the  Cap- 
tain reclined  in  the  stern  with  Hammond,  sprawling 


326  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

and  muttering,  between  his  knees.  They  had  nearly 
reached  the  beach  when  Sam  gave  a  sudden  spring, 
and,  with  an  oath,  threw  himself  upon  his  enemy. 
Bradley  fell  backward.  The  dory  heeled  until  the 
water  lipped  the  rail. 

"You  would,  would  you?"  grunted  Captain  Tit- 
comb.  "There!"  ? 

Seizing  the  struggling  diver  neck  and  crop,  he 
whirled  him  bodily  over  the  side. 

"Now,  then,"  panted  the  Captain,  "if  you  can't 
ride  like  a  man — walk!" 

Sam  went  into  the  cold  water  with  a  tremendous 
splash.  It  was  not  deep  and  he  floundered  to  his  feet, 
but  the  shock  sobered  him  a  little.  He  waded  to  the 
shore.  Turning,  he  stretched  out  an  arm  with  a  shak- 
ing forefinger  at  the  end  of  it.  His  rage  almost 
choked  him.  He  tried  twice  before  he  managed  to 
speak  clearly. 

"I  pay  my  debts,"  he  gasped.     "I  pay  my  debts!" 

"I've  heard  diff'rent,"  remarked  the  Captain,  drily. 
"But  never  mind,  Sam;  it's  a  good  habit." 

Hammond  did  not  heed  him.     "I  pay  my  debts," 
he  repeated.     "Do  you  hear  that,  Brad  Nickerson? 
You  doughface!     I've  got  your  girl  away  from  you 
already,  and  that  isn't  the  end.     I  pay  my  debts,  and/ 
by  God,  Brad  Nickerson,  I'll  pay  you !" 

He  stood  for  an  instant  pointing  at  the  dory.  Then 
he  stepped  back  into  the  darkness.  They  heard  his 
footsteps  crunching  the  broken  clam-shells  of  the 
road. 

"Seems  to  love  you  like  a  brother,  don't  he,  Brad?" 


MR.  SAM  HAMMOND  327 

observed  the  Captain,  as  they  were  on  their  way  up 
town.  "I  jedge  from  the  drift  of  his  entertainin'  re- 
marks that  he's  decided  to  chuck  up  his  job  with  Tit- 
comb  and  Nickerson.  Well,  I  cal'late  he'll  resign  by 
'mutual  consint,'  as  the  Irishman  did  when  him  and 
his  boss  told  each  other  to  go  to  blazes  at  the  same 
time.  I  met  one  of  the  Metropolitan  men  when  I  was 
up  to  Boston  and  he  told  me  his  folks  fired  Sam  be- 
cause he  went  on  a  howlin'  spree,  so  I  guess  this  little 
shindy  was  bound  to  come  sooner  or  later.  Kept 
pretty  straight  afore  sence  he's  been  to  home,  though, 
ain't  he?" 

Bradley  did  not  answer. 

Suddenly  the  Captain  slapped  his  thigh. 

"Good  land !"  he  exclaimed.  "Brad,  IVe  meant  to 
tell  you  all  day,  and  forgot  it :  The  Diving  Belle's  in- 
sured. I  went  down  to  Obed's  after  I  left  your  house 
last  night  and  we  fixed  it  up.  Five  thousand  dollars, 
and  it  went  on  at  noon  to-day — leastways,  I  s'pose  it 
did.  He  was  to  telephone  the  insurance  folks  this 


morninV 


"Good!  I'm  glad  that's  settled.  It  has  worried 
me  to  think  we  weren't  protected  at  all." 

"Well,  I  told  you  I'd  do  it,  didn't  I?  The  omly 
hitch  was  about  that  dynamite.  But  I  fixed  that.  Give 
Obed  to  understand  we'd  took  it  ashore.  We  have — 
all  but.  I  spoke  to  Peleg  and  he'll  have  it  off  in  a  day 


or  so." 


Bradley  stopped  short.  "You  don't  mean  to  tell 
me  it  hasn't  gone  yet?"  he  exclaimed.  "Why!  if  any- 
thing should  happen  to  the  schooner  with  that  stuff 


328  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

aboard  the  policy  wouldn't  hold  for  a  minute.  I've  a 
good  mind  to  go  back  now  and  take  it  off  myself." 

"Oh,  don't  be  an  old  woman !"  cried  the  Captain, 
testily.  "What  do  you  think's  goin'  to  happen?  I'll 
see  to  it  to-morrow.  Come  on  home !" 

The  junior  partner  did  not  press  the  subject,  but  he 
made  up  his  mind  that  if  he  lived  until  the  next  morn- 
ing that  dynamite  should  go  ashore  the  minute  the 
Diving  Belle  reached  the  Point. 

At  the  gate  of  the  Traveller's  Rest  they  separated* 
"Coming  'round  to  the  house  by  and  by,  Cap'n?" 
asked  Bradley. 

The  Captain's  manner  changed.  "I  don't  know," 
he  answered,  gloomily.  "I  presume  likely  I  may." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


THE  BURGLAR. 

THERE  was  a  mystery  about  the  Captain's 
visits  to  the  big  house.  Up  to  the  begin- 
ning of  that  week  he  had  called  on  Tues- 
day and  Friday  evenings  only,  and  had  remained 
until  after  ten  o'clock,  joking,  laughing  and  appar- 
ently enjoying  himself.  But  now  he  came  every  night 
and  seemed  less  talkative  and  more  glum  each  time. 
Also  his  calls  grew  shorter  and  he  went  home  as  early 
as  half-past  eight.  The  sisters  did  not  know  what  to 
make  of  it.  It  was  pleasant  and  encouraging  to  have 
him  come  so  often,  but  why  didn't  he  stay  longer? 

329 


330  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

Miss  Tempy  thought  he  must  be  worrying  over  the 
big  contract. 

She  asked  Clara  for  her  opinion,  but  Miss  Hopkins 
seemed  very  indifferent.  She  used  to  come  into  the 
sitting-room  as  soon  as  the  work  was  done  to  listen  to 
Captain  Titcomb's  stories,  but  of  late  she  had  gone 
straight  to  her  own  room.  The  "old  maids"  did  not 
urge  her  to  remain ;  they  liked  to  have  the  Captain  to 
themselves. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  previous  Sunday  Miss 
Tempy  had  taken  a  sudden  notion  to  go  over  to  the 
Methodist  Chapel  and  attend  the  Sabbath  School  con- 
cert. The  Chapel  was  on  the  road  to  Orham  Port,  a 
mile  or  more  from  the  Allen  home.  Miss  Prissy  was 
not  strong  enough  to  go,  and,  in  fact,  thought  the 
walk  too  long  for  her  delicate  sister,  but  Miss  Tempy, 
having  made  up  her  mind,  went.  She  would  have 
been  glad  of  Clara's  company,  but  the  young  lady  had 
already  gone  out. 

Miss  Tempy  had  just  reached  the  corner  when  she 
was  surprised  to  see  Captain  Titcomb  driving  toward 
her  in  a  buggy.  She  reqognized  the  horse  and  car- 
riage as  being  the  best  owned  by  Lem  Mullett,  the 
livery  stable  keeper.  Also  she  noticed  that  the  Cap- 
tain looked  particularly  well-dressed,  spruced  up,  she 
told  Miss  Prissy  afterwards. 

"Cap'n!"  she  called.     "Cap'n  Ezra!" 

The  Captain  was  then  almost  directly  opposite,  but 
he  did  not  seem  to  hear  or  see  her.  Instead  he 
whipped  up  the  horse  and  drove  by  faster  than  ever. 

"Dear  me !"  thought  Miss  Tempy.    "He  must  be 


THE  BURGLAR  331 

gittin'  absent-minded — workin'  too  hard,  I  guess. 
Cap'nEz— ra!" 

It  is  doubtful  if  the  Captain  would  have  heard 
even  then,  but  Jonadab  Wixon  was  coming  down  the 
road,  and  he  also  began  to  shout.  Hailed  thus,  fore 
and  aft,  the  absent-minded  one  was  obliged  to  heave 
to,  and,  when  Captain  Jonadab  pointed  out  Miss 
Tempy,  he  turned  his  horse  and  drove  back  to  where 
she  was  standing. 

"Well,  I  do  declare !"  exclaimed  the  lady,  smilingly 
conscious  of  a  becoming  new  bonnet — one  of  the  rea- 
sons for  her  desire  to  attend  the  concert,  "I'm  all  out 
of  breath  callin'  after  you.  I  don't  know  what  folks 
will  think!" 

The  Captain  didn't  appear  to  care  very  much  what 
folks  might  think.  He  was  polite  as  usual,  but  seem- 
ed to  be  a  trifle  nervous  and  kept  glancing  up  and 
down  the  road.  Miss  Tempy,  unconscious  of  the  ner- 
vousness, went  gushingly  on. 

"What  a  lovely  horse!"  she  cried.  "I  declare 
it  must  be  a  pleasure  to  ride  behind  him.  I 
do  so  like  to  ride  with  a  nice,  gentle  horse  like 
that.  Father  used  to  take  Prissy  and  me  drivin' 
with  our  Dexter  when  he  was  alive — father  was 
alive,  I  mean — yes,  and  the  horse,  too,  of  course. 
I  hope  \  haven't  kept  you.  Was  you  goin'  to  see 
Bradley?" 

"No,  no,"  was  the  hasty  answer.  "I  was  jest — 
jest  drivin'  down  the  road  a  ways."  Then,  perhaps 
noticing  that  his  friend  was  headed  toward  the  vil- 
lage, he  added:  "I  had  a  little  errand  down  towards 


332  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

the  Port.  You're  goin'  uptown,  I  see,  else  I'd  ask 
you  to  jump  in." 

"Why,  how  lovely,"  exclaimed  Miss  Tempy.  "I 
was  goin'  to  the  Port,  too;  down  to  the  Methodist 
folks'  concert.  I  only  came  this  way  'cause  I  thought 
I'd  stop  at  Mrs.  Wingate's  and  see  if  she  wouldn't  go 
with  me.  Prissy  was  afraid  the  walk  there  and  back 
would  be  too  long  for  me,  and,  truth  to  tell,  I  was  a 
little  afraid  of  it  myself.  I  didn't  expect  to  ride,  and 
with  you,  Cap'n  Ezra !  It'll  be  such  a  treat,  because 
I  shall  feel  perfectly  safe  with  you  drivin'." 

The  Captain  did  not  answer  immediately.  He  was 
busy  with  the  buckle  that  fastened  the  reins  together. 
But  the  silence  was  only  momentary. 

"Good  enough!"  he  cried.  "I'll  have  you  there  in 
a  jiffy." 

He  sprang  out,  assisted  the  lady  into  the  buggy, 
and  then  turned  the  horse's  head  into  the  road  lead- 
ing up  the  hill. 

"Why,  you're  goin'  the  wrong  way,"  Miss  Tempy 
exclaimed.  "You're  goin'  the  wrong  way,  Cap'n 
Ezra!" 

"Oh!"  replied  the  Captain,  cheerfully,  "that's  all 
right.  I  thought  we'd  go  'round  by  the  Neck  road. 
It's  prettier  that  way." 

But  Miss  Tempy  would  not  consent.  She  told  Miss 
Prissy  afterwards,  "I  felt  as  though  I'd  the  same  as 
begged  him  for  a  ride  as  it  was,  and  I  swan  if  I 
was  goin'  to  let  him  go  miles  out  of  his  way  jest  for 


me." 


'No,"  she  protested.    "No,  Cap'n,  I  won't  hear  of 


THE  BURGLAR  333 

it.     We'll  go  the  shortest  road  or  I  shall  git  right 


out." 


She  stood  up  as  she  said  it.  The  Captain  looked 
at  her  determined  face. 

"Why,  Tempy "  he  began. 

"No,  I  shan't  like  it  a  bit,  Cap'n  Titcomb,  if  you 
don't  turn  right  'round  and  go  the  way  you  was 
goin'." 

The  Captain  jerked  at  the  rein  with  almost  un- 
necessary vigor.  The  turn  was  made  in  a  hurry. 
They  wheeled  back  into  the  direct  road  to  the  Port 
and  moved  swiftly  along  it.  Captain  Titcomb  did  not 
say  much,  but  as  Miss  Tempy  talked  continuously  he 
had  little  opportunity. 

"How  nice  the  horse  does  go!"  commented  the 
lady.  "You  don't  have  to  cluck  to  him  nor  nothin'. 
Father  used  to  find  so  much  fault  with  our  Dexter; 
said  he  had  to  shove  on  the  reins  so  hard  to  make  him 
navigate  at  all  that  he  didn't  know's  'twouldn't  be 
easier  to  haul  the  carryall  himself.  But  then,  father 
was  so  high-spirited  that  nothin'  less'n  a  race  horse 
would  do  him.  Who's  that  waitin'  on  the  corner  in 
front  of  Gaius  Eldredge's?  Why,  I  do  b'lieve  it's 
Clara!" 

Captain  Titcomb  evidently  did  not  see  Miss  Hop- 
kins. At  all  events  he  looked  the  other  way  and  chir- 
ruped to  the  horse.  But  Miss  Tempy  not  only  saw 
but  intended  to  be  seen. 

"It  is  Clara,"  she  declared.  "I  must  speak  to  her, 
Clara!  Clara!" 

The  young  lady,  who  had  been  intently  watching 


334  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

the  approaching  buggy,  stepped  to  the  edge  of  the 
sidewalk  and  waited  until  the  equipage  drew  up. 
She  was  dressed  in  her  new  gown  and  jacket  and  cer- 
tainly looked  very  pretty.  She  nodded  to  the  Captain, 
whose  face  was  redder  than  usual. 

"How  d'ye  do,  Clara?"  said  Miss  Tempy,  trying 
hard  not  to  be  patronizing.  "I  s'pose  you're  takin'  a 
walk.  You  look  reel  nice.  Where  are  you  goin'  ?" 

Miss  Hopkins  replied  that  she  didn't  know  just 
where  she  should  go. 

"Well,  I  hope  you'll  have  a  pleasant  afternoon 
wherever  you  go,"  gushed  Miss  Tempy.  "The  Cap'n 
is  takin'  me  for  a  little  drive.  Isn't  this  a  beautiful 
horse?" 

Here  the  Captain  made  his  first  remark  since  the 
carriage  stopped.  It  was  to  the  effect  that  he  was 
taking  Miss  Tempy  down  to  the  Methodist  Chapel. 
She  had  been  going  that  way  and  it  was  a  long  walk. 

"Oh!"  said  Miss  Hopkins,  sweetly,  "is  that  all? 
I  thought  perhaps  you  were  going  to  take  her  over  to 
Harniss.  It  seems  as  if  I  remembered  you  saying  you 
expected  to  go  there  to-day.  Good-bye.  I  hope  you'll 
have  a  nice  time." 

"Good-bye,"  said  Miss  Tempy.  "You  needn't 
hurry  home  on  our  account,  Clara.  Prissy's  well 
n enough  to  help  me  do  the  dishes  to-night.  Clara's  a 
reel  nice  girl,  isn't  she?"  she  added,  turning  to  Cap- 
tain Titcomb.  "Do  you  know,  I  wonder  that  she 
hasn't  got  a  young  man  by  this  time." 

The  Captain's  answer  was  a  grunt  and  a  crack  of 
the  whip  that  sent  the  buggy  flying  down  the  road  in 


THE  BURGLAR  335 

a  cloud  of  dust.  Miss  Tempy  began  to  fear  she  had 
made  a  mistake  in  calling  her  companion  a  perfectly 
safe  driver.  Certainly  she  had  never  in  her  life 
ridden  as  fast  as  she  did  for  the  next  few  minutes. 
They  reached  the  little  chapel  long  before  the  concert 
began.  There  she  bade  her  escort  an  effusive  fare- 
well and  went  inside,  but  thoughts  of  the  wondrous 
tale  which  she  would  tell  Miss  Prissy  when  she  reach- 
ed home  kept  her  from  paying  the  proper  attention 
to  the  recitations  of  the  infant  class,  or  even  to  Super- 
intendent Ellis'  address,  which  began,  "Now,  little 
children,"  and  ended  with  the  pithy  sentence,  "The 
collection  will  next  be  gathered  in." 

All  through  supper  she  talked  of  nothing  but  her 
"lovely  long  ride  with  Cap'n  Ezra."  She  didn't  mean 
to  stray  from  the  truth,  but  she  couldn't  help  exag- 
gerating just  a  little,  and  a  stranger  might  have  been 
led  to  believe  that  the  drive  was  arranged  before- 
hand and  that  it  lasted  a  good  deal  longer  than  it 
really  did. 

On  that  evening  Captain  Titcomb  made  the  first 
of  the  short  calls  which  were  to  continue  during  the 
week.  Miss  Tempy  welcomed  him  enthusiastically, 
and  her  sister  did  her  best  not  to  appear  jealous. 
Ckra  did  not  come  into  the  sitting-room  at  all,  nor, 
as  has  been  said,  did  she  do  so  during  the  following 
four  evenings. 

Bradley  did  not  mention  the  trouble  aboard  the 
Diving  Belle  when  he  reached  home  Friday  night. 
He  was  even  more  silent  than  usual  at  the  supper 
table.  When  the  meal  was  over  he  suddenly  ex- 


336  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

claimed,  "By  George !  Clara,  I  must  beg  your  pardon. 
There  was  a  letter  for  you  in  our  box  this  morning 
and  I  left  it  aboard  the  schooner.  I'll  bring  it  home 
to-morrow." 

"From  your  mother,  most  likely,  Clara,"  observed 
Miss  Prissy.  "How  did  you  come  to  forget  it,  Brad- 
ley? Your  memory's  gen'rally  so  good." 

Captain  Titcomb  came  about  eight.  He  seemed 
really  cheerful  when  he  first  arrived,  but  soon  re- 
lapsed into  the  moody  silence  that  had  characterized 
his  visits  that  week. 

"Clara  out  in  the  kitchen?"  he  asked,  after  a  while. 
"I  noticed  the  light  was  burnin'." 

"No,"  replied  Miss  Tempy;  "she's  up  in  her  room. 
She's  left  some  bread  to  rise  and  I  guess  she's  comin' 
down  to  see  it  by  and  by.  That's  why  she  left  the 
lamp,  I  s'pose  likely." 

As  the  big  clock  in  the  dining-room  struck  nine  the 
Captain  rose,  announced  that  he  must  be  going,  and 
went. 

Bradley  retired  soon  after,  and  the  sisters  followed 
his  example.  The  old  house  grew  still.  Miss  Prissy 
was  dropping  into  a  comfortable  doze  when  she  felt 
herself  clutched  violently  by  the  back  hair. 

"Ow!"  she  exclaimed,  half-awake.  "Let  go!  What 
on  earth " 

"S-s-sh-h!"  Miss  Tempy  breathed  it  frantically 
into  her  ear.  "Don't  speak!" 

"I  won't  if  you'll  let  go  of  my  hair.  What's  the 
matter?  Nightmare?  I  told  you  there  was  a  limit, 
even  to  pepper  tea." 


THE  BURGLAR  337 

"Oh,  do  be  still!  There's  robbers  downstairs.  I 
heard 'em!" 

"Robbers  fiddlesticks !    Go  to  sleep  I" 

"Prissy  Allen,  1  b'lieve  you'd  lay  still  if  you  was 
murdered  in  your  bed,  and " 

"Most  likely  1  should.  Where  are  they  now — in 
\  the  coal  bin,  same  as  last  time?" 

"No,  in  the  dinin'-room  or  the  kitchen.  Please  call 
Bradley  or  I  shall  die;  I  know  I  shall !" 

Miss  Prissy  groaningly  sat  up  and  listened.  "It's 
Clara  seein'  to  her  bread,"  she  said,  after  a  moment. 

"It  ain't.  Clara's  in  her  room,  readin' ;  I  saw  her 
through  the  crack  in  the  door.  And  Bradley's  in  his 
room;  I  heard  him  breathin'.  Please  git  up!" 

Miss  Prissy  got  up  quickly  enough  then.  She,  too, 
fancied  she  heard  a  faint  sound  in  a  room  below. 
"  'Tain't  burglars,  whatever  it  is,"  she  whispered. 
"They  wouldn't  come  so  early,  and  I  don't  know 
what  they'd  expect  to  find  worth  stealin'  here  any- 
how !" 

"Prissy  Allen,  how  you  talk!  And  our  best  teapot 
and  the  spoons  hid  right  in  the  clock  case !" 

Miss  Prissy  said  no  more.  She  donned  a  wrapper 
and  put  on  her  slippers.  Her  sister  was  already  simi- 
larly garbed.  Then,  Miss  Prissy  bearing  the  lamp, 
they  tiptoed  into  the  hall  and  on  to  the  door  of  Brad- 
ley's  room. 

"Bradley,"  cautiously  whispered  Miss  Prissy; 
"Bradley,  will  you  git  up,  please?  Tempy  thinks 
there's  somebody  downstairs." 

They  heard  Bradley  chuckle  sleepily.     In  a  few 


338  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

moments  he  came  out,  dressed  in  jacket  and  trousers 
and  blinking  at  the  lamp.  Clara,  who  had  not  gone 
to  bed,  had  already  joined  them. 

The  procession  moved.  Bradley  first;  then  Miss 
Prissy  with  the  lamp;  then  Miss  Tempy,  who,  as  she 
said  afterwards,  was  "too  scared  to  go  ahead  and 
dasn't  go  last."  Clara  brought  up  the  rear.  They 
peered  cautiously  into  the  dining-room.  It  was 
empty. 

"There!"  exclaimed  Miss  Prissy;  "I  guess  'twas 
nothin'  but  Tempy's  imagination,  as  usual.  She " 

The  words  died  on  her  lips.  There  came  a  sound 
from  the  kitchen — they  all  heard  it — a  rattling  sound 
and  the  faint  squeak  of  a  door. 

Bradley  sprang  to  the  coal  hod  and  picked  up  the 
poker.  It  was  the  only  apology  for  a  weapon  in  sight. 
He  started  for  the  kitchen,  but  Miss  Prissy  seized 
him  by  the  jacket  and  Miss  Tempy  threw  both  arms 
around  his  neck. 

"Don't  you  stir,  Bradley  Nickerson,"  whispered 
the  older  sister.  "Don't  you  stir  a  step !  S'pose  he 
had  a  revolver." 

"Yes,  or  a  dagger,"  gasped  the  trembling  Miss 
Tempy,  whose  ideas  of  robbers  were  derived  mainly 
from  her  novels.  "If  you  go  near  that  kitchen  I  shall 
drop  right  in  my  tracks.  Oh,  Bradley,  please,  for  our 
sakes!" 

Bradley  tried  to  free  himself,  but  it  was  hard  work. 
He  unclasped  Miss  Tempy's  arms  from  his  neck,  but 
she  immediately  seized  him  around  the  waist.  It  was 
a  ridiculous  situation.  And  suddenly  he  became  aware 


THE  BURGLAR  339 

of  a  cold  wind  blowing  from  the  direction  of  the 
front  hall. 

"Is  that  front  door  open?"  he  whispered. 

The  horrified  sisters  turned  to  stare  at  the  black 
tunnel  of  the  hall.  And  then  footfalls  were  heard  on 
the  walk — coming  up  the  steps.  Clara's  voice  became 
audible ;  she  was  speaking  in  agonized  whispers. 

"Who "  began  Bradley. 

Clara  appeared,  clinging  to  the  arm  of  Captain  Eri 
Hedge.  Captain  Eri  looked  puzzled,  but  he  grinned 
when  he  saw  the  tableau  in  the  dining-room. 

He  told  the  story  the  next  morning  to  his  mess- 
mates, Captain  Perez  and  Captain  Jerry,  about  as 
follows : 

"You  see,"  he  said,  "I'd  been  up  to  lodge  meetin' 
and  stayed  a  little  longer'n  usual.  I  was  comin'  home 
by  the  short  cut,  and  jest  as  I  got  abreast  the  old 
maids'  house  the  front  door  bust  open  and  somethin' 
comes  prancin'  down  the  walk  flutterin'  and  flappin' 
its  arms  like  a  hen  tryin'  to  fly.  Thinks  I,  'Has  that 
speritu'list  camp-meetin'  I  went  to  last  summer 
struck  in?'  You  see,  I  couldn't  imagine  anything 
but  a  ghost  havin'  the  spunk  to  use  the  old  maids' 
front  door. 

"But  the  critter  swooped  out  of  the  gate  and  bore 
down  on  me  like  a  hawk  on  a  June-bug.  Then  I  see 
'twas  Clara  Hopkins,  scart  pretty  nigh  to  death. 

"  'Oh,  Cap'n  Eri !'  says  she.    'Oh,  Cap'n  Eri !' 

"  The  same,'  says  I.    'What's  the  row?' 

"  'Burglars !'  says  she,  makin'  fast  to  my  arm;  'bur- 
glars!1 


340  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

"I  had  to  laugh.  I  couldn't  help  it.  'Bur- 
glars at  ten  o'clock!'  I  says.  'Did  they  come  to 
supper?' 

4  'But  they're  there!'  she  says.  'Everybody  heard 
'em;  Bradley  and  all.' 

"I  couldn't  b'lieve  'twas  burglars  even  then,  but  I 
knew  if  Brad  Nickerson  took  any  stock  in  it  somethin' 
was  up.  And  the  poor  girl  was  tremblin'  like  Peleg 
Myrick's  pup. 

"  'All  right,  Clara,'  says  I.  'Let's  go  in  and  shake 
hands  with  'em.' 

"So  in  we  went.  When  we  struck  the  dinin'-room 
there  was  Brad  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  lookin* 
pretty  toler'ble  foolish,  with  Prissy  moored  to  his 
coat-tails  and  Tempy  with  a  clove  hitch  'round  his 
waist.  All  hands  looked  s'prised  to  see  me,  but  no 
more'n  I  was  to  see  them.  'What  is  this?'  says  I. 
'Livin'  statues?' 

"The  old  maids  cast  loose  from  Brad  then  and  be- 
gun on  me. 

"  'It's  burglars,'  says  Prissy. 

"  'In  the  kitchen '  says  Tempy. 

"  'And  Bradley  was  goin'  right  in  there ' 

"  'At  the  risk  of  his  life.  And ' 

"  'And,  oh !  we're  so  glad  you Ve  come,  'cause ' 

"  'Hold  on  a  minute !'  I  says,  holdin'  up  both 
hands.  'If  this  is  a  talkin'  race,  let's  start  evem 
What's  the  row,  Brad?' 

"Brad,  he  kind  of  grinned.  'Well,'  says  he;  'the 
ladies  thought  they  heard  someone  in  the  kitchen,  but 
I  guess ' 


THE  BURGLAR  341 

"  'Thought  we  heard  'em  I'  busts  out  Prissy.  'Why, 
you  heard  'em  yourself!' 

"  'Yes,'  squeals  Tempy.  'And  7  heard  'em,  and 
Clara  heard  'em.  And  that's  why  you  took>the  poker.' 

"And  now  Brad,  he  held  up  his  hands,  poker  and 
all.  'All  right !  all  right!'  says  he.  'Now  that  we're 
reinforced  maybe  we'd  better  go  out  and  interview 
'em.  They  might  die  of  old  age  if  we  stay  here  much 
longer.' 

"So  he  winked  to  me  and  the  fleet  got  under  way. 
Me  and  Brad  led  off,  like  a  couple  of  tugs,  and  the 
women  folks  strung  out  behind  like  coal  barges,  hold- 
in'  on  to  each  other's  wrappers,  and  breathin'  hard. 

"We  opened  the  kitchen  door  and  sailed  in — that 
is,  Brad  and  I  did.  The  coal  barges  got  in  a  lump, 
so's  to  speak,  in  the  doorway  and  stayed  there.  There 
was  a  lamp  burnin'  side  of  a  pan  of  dough  on  the 
table,  but,  jest  as  I  expected,  we  was  the  only  humans 
in  sight. 

"  'Looks's  if  the  burglars  had  got  tired  of  waitin' 
for  us  and  got  mad  and  gone  home,'  says  I.  'Don't 
know  what  they  broke  into  the  kitchen  for,  anyhow. 
I've  heard  of  a  feller's  stealin'  a  red-hot  stove, 
but ' 

"Brad  looked  puzzled,  sort  of.  'I  sartinly  heard 
somethin'  movin'  out  here,'  says  he.  'Most  likely 
'twas  a  stray  cat,  and  it's  hidin'  'round  somewheres.' 

"But  jest  then  comes  a  wrhistle — a  squeal,  I  mean — > 
from  the  barges.  Tempy's  deadlights  were  poppin' 
out  of  her  head,  and  she  was  p'intin'  a  shaky  finger  at 
the  floor.  There  was  big  muddy  footprints  all  over  it. 


342  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

"Well,  I  own  up  I  was  set  back  two  or  three  rows. 
Somebody  had  been  there,  that  was  sartin,  I've  seen 
cats  with  double  paws,  but  no  cats  made  them  prints. 
A  camel  with  the  gout  might  have  done  it,  if  it  took 
pains  and  trod  heavy. 

1  'Humph!'  says  I,  and  Brad  agreed  with  me. 

"  'Humph!'  says  I  again.     'It  looks ' 

"I  was  standin'  right  in  front  of  the  door  of  the 
closet  where  the  old  maids  kept  their  pots  and  pans. 
And  jest  then  inside  that  closet  bust  out  the  most  out- 
rageous racket  ever  you  heard.  "Biffity!  bang! 
thump !'  And  then  a  coughin'  and  sneezin'  like  forty 
packs  of  thunder  crackers. 

"I  ain't  a  narvous  man,  gin'rally  speakin',  but  I 
got  up  and  moved  sudden.  I  didn't  exactly  run,  but  I 
kind  of  glided  over  to  the  sink.  Leastways  I  was 
backed  up  against  it  when  I  remembered  to  take  an 
observation.  The  women  grabbed  each  other  and 
screeched.  Brad,  he  turned  sort  of  yeller  'round  the 
gills,  but  he  was  the  coolest  one  in  the  bunch. 

"The  bangin'  and  barkin'  and  sneezin'  in  the  closet 
kept  right  up  to  time.  Whoever  it  was,  he  wasn't 
shirkin'  his  work  none  to  speak  of. 

"  'Come  out  of  that!'  yells  Brad,  makin'  a  dive  for 
the  door. 

"Afore  he  could  reach  it  that  door  flew  open  of 
itself.  Out  comes  somethin'  doubled  up  like  a  jack- 
knife.  It  kind  of  pawed  the  air  with  its  flippers  and 
dove  head  first  for  the  sink.  I  give  it  all  the  room  it 
needed;  didn't  want  to  be  selfish. 

"  'Hoo-rash-oo!"  remarks  the  thing,  as  if  it  meant 


THE  BURGLAR  343 

it,  too.  Then  it  shoved  its  head  into  the  water 
bucket. 

"The  whole  congregation  was  consider'ble  shook 
up.  Nobody  felt  like  risin'  and  addressin'  the  mourn- 
ers. The  critter  at  the  water  bucket  splashed  and 
gurgled  for  a  minute.  Then  it  turned  'round.  Its 
head  and  face  was  all  streaks  of  red  and  brown  and 
the  water  was  drippin'  off  its  chin.  Who  was  it?  You'd 
never  guess  in  a  million  years ! 

"I  swan  to  man  if  it  wan't  Ez  Titcomb  f 

"  'Oh!  it's  the  Cap'n!'  squeaked  Tempy,  and  went 
down  in  a  heap. 

"  'Hoo-rash-oo !'  says  Cap'n  Ez,  sort  of  openin'  the 
conversation. 

"  Well !'  says  I. 

"  Tor  heaven's  sakes !'  says  Brad. 

"But  Prissy  stepped  for'ard  and  took  command. 
She  didn't  looked  scared  any  more;  only  kind  of  queer 
'round  the  mouth  and  snappy  'round  the  eyes. 

"  'Cap'n  Titcomb,'  says  she,  'if  you  please,  what 
were  you  hidin'  in  that  closet  for?  If  you  can  stop 
sneezin'  long  enough  to  answer,  I  should  like ' 

"  'Sneeze !'  hollers  Ez,  gittin'  ready  for  another  ex- 
plosion. 'Sneeze !'  says  he,  kind  of  through  his  nose 
and  wavin'  his  hand  desp'rate.  'I  guess  maybe  you'd 
sneeze  if  you'd  upsot  the  spice-box  right  into  your 
face'n  eyes  and  had  your  moustache  full  of  red  pep- 
per!' 

"Seemed  a  likely  sort  of  guess,  when  you  come  to 
think  of  it,  but  Prissy  didn't  pay  no  attention. 

"  'Why  was  you  hid  in  that  closet?'  says  she. 


344  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

"Well,  sir!  that  was  the  fust  time  in  my  life  that  I 
ever  see  Ez  Titcomb  clean  out  of  soundin's.  I  snum  ! 
you  could  see  he  didn't  know  what  to  say,  and  when 
Ez  gits  that  way  things  must  be  consider'ble  mussed 
up.  He  fidgetted,  and  stuttered,  and  picked  at  his 
watch  chain. 

"  'Prissy '    says    he,    and    then    he    stopped. 

'Prissy '  he  says  again,  and  shut  up  like  a  clam. 

'Prissy ' 

4 Well?'  says  Prissy,  in  a  sort  of  vinegar-on-ice 
voice. 

"  *  Prissy '  says  Ez.     He  looked  at  her  and  at 

Tempy  and  at  Brad.  As  for  Brad,  there  was  a  twin- 
kle in  his  eye.  Honest,  he  looked  almost  as  if  he  was 
havin'  consider'ble  fun  out  of  the  show. 

"  'Prissy '  says  Ez  once  more.     Then  he  let 

everything  go  with  a  run,  and  hollers,  'Oh,  thunder ! 
what's  the  use?  Clara,  you  know  what  I  come  here 
for.  Why  don't  you  tell  'em  and  be  done  with  it?' 

"Course  we  all  looked  at  Clara  then.  She  blushed 
up  pretty  red,  but  she  answered  prompt. 

"  'I  s'pose  you  come  here  to  see  me,'  says  she, 
*though  why  you  should  hide  I  don't  see.' 

"  '  'Cause  I  couldn't  see  you  no  other  way;  that's 
why!  I've  tried  hard  enough  to  speak  with  you  for 
the  last  week,  but  you've  cleared  out  every  night  'fore 
I  got  the  chance.  I  thought  if  I  waited  till  you  come 
to  fix  the  bread,  I'd  be  here  and  you'd  have  to  see  me 
and  hear  what  I  had  to  say.  So  I  come  in  the  back 
door  and  waited.  Then  I  heard  Prissy  speak  in  the 
dinin'-room  and — well,  I  got  rattled  and  hid  in  that 


THE  BURGLAR  345 

da — that  everlastin'  closet.  That's  the  whole  fool 
yarn!  There!' 

"Prissy  looked  as  if  she  was  goin'  to  say  something 
but  Clara  cut  in  ahead  of  her.  'Yes,'  says  she;  'but 
what  you  haven't  explained  are  your  actions  last  Sun- 
day. When  a  man  asks  the  lady  he's  engaged  to  to 
go  out  drivin'  with  him,  and  then  calmly  ups  and  takes 
somebody  else,  why ' 

"  'I  wrote  you  how  it  happened,'  says  Ez,  pleadin1 
like. 

"  'I  never  got  the  letter,'  says  Clara. 

"  'One  minute,  if  you  please,'  breaks  in  Prissy,, 
calm  but  chilly,  like  a  January  mornin'.  'Let's  under- 
stand this  thing.  Cap'n  Titcomb,  are  you  and  Clara, 
engaged  to  be  married?' 

"Ez  swallered  once  or  twice  and  looked  'round  as- 
if  he  was  hopin'  somebody's  heave  a  life-line.  But 
nobody  did.  Then  he  shoves  his  fists  in  his  pockets,, 
and  says,  'Why,  yes ;  we — wre  are.' 

"  'Well,  I  never!'  says  Prissy. 

"I  didn't  say  nothin',  neither  did  Brad,  but  I  car- 
late  we  both  looked  s'prised.  Tempy,  who'd  beeri 
settin'  on  the  floor  ever  sence  Ez  was  materialized — 
like  one  of  the  camp-meetin'  sperits — out  of  that 
closet,  spoke  up  as  if  she  was  talkin'  in  her  sleep,  and 
says  she,  'And  it  was  Clara  he  was  comin'  to  see  all 
this  time!' 

"  'Well !'  says  Prissy.  'Well,  I  must  say,  Cap'n 
Titcomb,  that  I  think  it  would  have  been  more  manly 
if  you'd  come  and  seen  Clara,  instead  of  spendin'  your 
evenin's  with  us,  and  lettin'  us  think ' 


346  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

"  'Come  and  see  her  I1  bellers  Ez.  'Didn't  I  try 
and  come  to  see  her?  But  every  time  I  got  to  the 
kitchen  door  you  or  Tempy'd  take  me  in  tow  and  head 
for  the  settin'-room.  I  swan  to  man  I  ain't  had  a 
chance  to  breathe,  you  watched  me  so !' 

"Tempy  started  to  say  something  but  Prissy  was 
skipper  jest  then.  'Don't  say  any  more,  Tempy,'  she 
says.  'Now  that  we  know  the  Cap'n  is  goin'  to  marry 

our '     I  guess  she  was  goin'  to  say  servant,  but 

didn't  hardly  dast  to — 'our  young  lady  friend,'  says 
she,  'we'll  treat  him  as  her  comp'ny,  not  ours.  Come, 
we  ain't  wanted  here.' 

"And,  helpin'  Tempy  up,  she  took  her  by  the  arm 
and  sailed  out,  all  canvas  sot  and  colors  flyin'. 

"Ez,  he  looked  consider'ble  like  the  feller  that 
stole  the  hen's  eggs  and  forgot  and  set  down  on  'em. 

"Brad  didn't  speak.  He  jest  looked  sort  of  mourn- 
ful at  the  partner  and  shook  his  head  slow.  I  ain't  a 
mind  reader,  but  I'll  bet  he  was  thinkin',  same  as  I 
was,  that,  for  a  chap  who  had  the  name  of  bein'  the 
slickest  kind  of  a  ladies'  man,  Ez  Titcomb  sartinly 
had  upset  the  calabash  this  time. 

"And  we  went  out  and  left  him  alone  with  his  best 
girl." 


CHAPTER  XX. 


A  DEBT  IS  PAID. 

WELL,  Clara,"  observed  Captain  Tit- 
comb,  a  few  hours  later,  standing  on 
the  step  by  the  back  door  and  button- 
ing his  peajacket,  "I  s'pose  it  had  to  come  out  some- 
time, but  I  did  hope  'twould  come  more  soothin'  like, 
as  the  feller  said  to  the  dentist.    The  thing  that  wor- 
ried me  most  of  all — always  exceptin'  your  givin*  me 
the  mitten,  as  I'd  begun  to  think  you  had — was  how 
we  was  goin'  to  break  it  to  the  old  maids.    And  now 
it's  kind  of  broke  itself,  as  you  might  say." 

Clara,  standing  in  the  doorway,  with  a  shawl  about 
her  shoulders,  smiled,  but  shook  her  head.     "Yes," 

347 


348  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

she  said,  "I  should  say  it  had.  I  guess  the  best  thing 
I  can  do  is  to  move  back  home  right  away.  They'll 
never  forgive  me  for  letting  you  fall  in  love  with  me, 
Ezra;  never  in  the  world." 

"Oh!  I  don't  know,"  replied  the  Captain,  hope- 
fully. "That's  where  Brad'll  help  out.  He  can  do 
more  than  anybody  else  to  square  you  and  me  with 
Prissy  and  Tempy.  Land  of  love !  Is  that  one 
o'clock?" 

"Yes,  it  is.  You  must  be  going  right  away.  I'd 
no  idea  'twas  so  late." 

"Nor  I  neither.  Seemed  so  good  to  have  you  to 
myself  for  a  little  while,  without  havin'  to  dodge  any- 
body, that  I've  jest  enjoyed  it,  even  if  I  did  have  to 
swaller  a  pound  of  pepper  aforehand." 

The  quarrel — or  misunderstanding,  rather — had 
been  made  up.  They  had  been  saying  good  night 
ever  since. 

"Cleared  off  fine,  ain't  it?"  remarked  Captain 
Ezra,  looking  at  the  sky. 

The  fog  had  entirely  disappeared  and  it  was  a 
clear,  cold  November  night.  The  heavens  were  spat- 
tered thick  with  stars,  and  the  horizon  line  was  dotted 
here  and  there  with  the  sparks  of  lighthouses  and 
lightships.  Sleeping  Orham  lay  still,  and  the  surf 
hummed  a  restful  lullaby. 

"What  was  that?"  asked  Clara,  pointing. 

"What  was  what?" 

"I  thought  I  saw  a  queer  light  out  on  the  water 
there.  Yes !  See !  there  it  is  again !" 

The  Captain  put  up  his  hand  to  shade  his  eyes  from 


A  DEBT  IS  PAID  349 

the  rays  of  the  lamp  in  the  kitchen  and  looked  in  the 
direction  she  was  pointing.  Out  beyond  the  strip  of 
water  at  the  foot  of  the  long  hill  behind  the  house, 
beyond  the  point  that  divided  it  from  the  harbor,  a 
speck  of  light  glowed  for  an  instant,  flickered  and 
went  out. 

"That's  queer,"  he  muttered.  "That's  off  in  the 
harbor,  right  by  our  moorin's." 

The  speck  of  light  reappeared,  grew  larger,  puffed 
for  an  instant  into  a  ruddy  flame  that  lit  up  the  masts 
and  hull  of  a  schooner  lying  at  anchor. 

"Lord  A'mighty!"  yelled  Captain  Titcomb.  "It's 
the  Diving  Belle  on  fire !" 

And  from  the  darkness  in  the  direction  of  the  dis- 
tant wharf  came  a  faint  shout — then  another. 

The  Captain  plunged  headlong  for  the  back  fence. 
"Call  Brad !"  he  shouted.  "Quick  1" 

Clara  ran  screaming  into  the  house,  and  her  com- 
panion vaulted  the  fence  and  dashed  down  the  hill. 
The  dead  grass  beneath  his  feet  was  wet  and  slippery ». 
Blackberry  vines  caught  him  about  the  ankles  and 
tangled  clumps  of  bayberry  bushes  tore  his  clothes  as 
he  scrambled  through  them.  Once  he  fell  head-first 
into  a  sandpit,  but  the  sand  was  soft  and  he  was  not 
hurt.  The  Diving  Belle  was  on  fire !  The  Diving 
Belle  was  burning  up !  His  brain  repeated  it  over 
and  over  again.  Then  came  the  thought  of  what  her 
loss  would  mean  to  Bradley  and  himself,  and  he 
groaned  aloud. 

He  reached  the  foot  of  the  hill  and  ploughed 
through  the  soft  sand  of  the  beach.  The  tide  was  low 


350  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

and  he  ran  across  the  flats,  splashing  to  his  knees  in 
the  channels.  As  he  climbed  the  bank  by  the  bridge 
he  heard  someone  running  before  him  over  the  loose 
planks. 

He  crossed  the  bridge  and  panted  up  the  second 
hill.  As  he  reached  its  top  the  wind  from  the  sea 
struck  cold  on  his  sweating  forehead,  and  brought  to 
his  ears  the  sound  of  shouting.  There  were  lights 
in  the  upper  windows  of  the  houses  he  passed. 
Jonadab  Wixon  thrust  a  tousled  head  from  the  win- 
dow of  his  bedroom  and  hailed,  asking  what  was  the 
matter. 

Captain  Titcomb  could  see  the  cluster  of  buildings 
at  the  landing  plainly  now,  and  the  masts  of  the  cat- 
boats  alongside  the  wharf.  The  water  of  the  harbor 
was  black,  except  in  one  spot.  There  the  Diving  Belle 
lay  in  a  flickering  halo  of  red  light.  Little  jets  of 
flame  were  shooting  up  from  her  hull  amidships.  The 
smell  of  burning  wood  came  on  the  wind. 

Lem  Mullett,  the  livery  stable  keeper,  was  just 
ahead,  puffing  .and  stumbling  in  the  middle  of  the 
narrow  road.  He  seized  the  Captain  by  the  arm  as 
the  latter  overtook  him. 

"How'd — how'd — she  git — afire  ?"  he  gasped. 

Captain  Titcomb  did  not  answer.  His  eyes  were 
fixed  on  the  .burning  schooner,  and  he  pushed  Mr. 
Mullett  out  of  the  way  and  ran  on. 

Just  as  he  reached  the  bend  by  Newcomb's  fish- 
house,  a  huddle  of  men,  some  with  overcoats  and  hats, 
and  others  bareheaded  and  half-dressed,  rushed  wild- 
ly around  the  corner  of  the  building.  The  Captain's 


A  DEBT  IS  PAID  351 

shoulder  struck  the  foremost  man  a  blow  in  the  chest 
that  knocked  him  backwards. 

"Ugh !  Ow!"  grunted  the  man.  Then  he  cried, 
"Hey?  IsthatyouCap'nEz?" 

The  Captain  was  fighting  his  way  through.  "Let 
me  by,"  he  shouted.  "Git  out  of  my  way!" 

Some  obeyed,  but  others  did  not.  There  were  con- 
fused cries  of  "Stop  him!  Don't  let  him  go!"  He 
was  seized  by  the  arm.  The  crowd  closed  about  him. 

"Don't  let  me  go!"  roared  the  Captain,  striking 
right  and  left.  "Who'll  stop  me?  Are  you  crazy? 

Parker,  by  thunder,  I'll Alvin  Bearse,  take  your 

hands  off  me !" 

But  Alvin  held  tight.  "Cap'n  Ez,"  he  pleaded; 
"listen !  listen  jest  a  minute !  You  mustn't  go  off  to 
her.  Ira,  hold  his  other  arm." 

Overpowered  and  held  fast,  the  bewildered  Cap- 
tain gazed  at  the  faces  surrounding  him.  "For  the 
Lord's  sake!"  he  cried.  "You  cowards!  Are  you 
goin'  to  let  her  burn  up  without  liftin'  a  hand?  What 
are  you  standin'  here  for?  Why  ain't  you  aboard 
your  ship,  Alvin  Bearse?  Did  you  set  her  afire  your- 
self? Let  me  go,  or  I'll " 

He  struggled  frantically.  "Cap'n  Ez,"  pleaded 
Alvin.  "Listen  to  me.  The  dynamite's  aboard !  The 
dynamite?* 

Captain  Titcomb  stopped  struggling.  The  dyna- 
mite in  the  hold !  He  had  forgotten  it  entirely.  That 
was  why  no  boats  had  put  out  to  the  burning  vessel. 
That  was  what  they  were  running  away  from. 

"  'Tain't  safe  to  stay  here !"  shouted  someone  from 


352  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

the  outskirts  of  the  rapidly  growing  crowd.  "We'll 
be  blowed  to  slivers  when  she  goes  off.  Git  back  to 
the  hill." 

"Bluey  Bacheldor,"  yelled  the  Captain,  "you're  a 
coward  and  always  was.  But  ain't  there  no  men  in 
this  gang?  Bearse!  Sparrow!  Ellis!  Are  you 
goin'  to  stand  by  and  see  me  and  Brad  ruined?  Who'll 
come  with  me  and  pitch  the  stuff  overboard?  We'll 
save  her  yit !  Come  on  1" 

They  were  wavering,  some  of  them.  Bearse  was  a 
brave  man — so  was  Ellis.  The  two  looked  at  each 
other. 

"Come  on,  boys!"  shouted  the  Captain,  getting  one 
arm  free  and  waving  it.  Then,  as  a  new  thought 
struck  him,  "What's  the  matter  with  you  ?  Dynamite 
don't  blow  up  in  a  fire ;  it  burns  like  cord-wood.  Come 
on,  you  fools !" 

They  might  have  followed  him  then,  but  Captain 
Edward  Taylor  came  up.  A  man  of  experience  along- 
shore, and  one  of  the  town's  Selectmen,  his  words  car- 
ried weight.  "Don't  let  him  stir,"  he  commanded. 
"Dynamite,  boxed  in  as  he's  got  it  in  that  hold,  is  sure 
to  explode,  and  he  knows  it.  The  least  shock'll  do  it, 
if  the  fire  doesn't.  Come  back  to  the  hill.  Ez,  you'll 
have  to  go  with  us." 

That  settled  it.  Fighting,  pleading,  swearing,  Cap- 
tain Titcomb  was  carried  by  main  force  along  the 
road  toward  the  hill  by  the  bridge.  Long  tongues  of 
flame  were  spouting  from  the  Diving  Belle's  main 
hatch.  Up  in  the  village  the  schoolhouse  bell  was 
ringing. 


A  DEBT  IS  PAID  353 

"Don't  let  anybody  go  near  the  wharf,"  ordered 

Captain  Taylor.  "Warn  'em  as  fast  as What's 

that?" 

There  was  a  scuffle  in  the  road  below.  Two  or 
three  shouts.  The  sound  of  running  feet. 

Ira  Sparrow  rushed  up  the  hill.  His  voice  trem- 
bled. 

"He's  got  through!  We  didn't  see  him  in  time!" 
he  panted. 

"Who?"  asked  several  voices. 

"Brad  Nickerson.  I'm  afraid  he's  goin'  off  to  the 
schooner!" 

Captain  Titcomb  gave  a  spring  that  almost  cleared 
him.  The  tears  came  into  his  eyes. 

"For  the  Lord's  sake !"  he  begged.  "Are  you  goin' 
to  let  that  boy  kill  himself?"  Then,  bending  forward, 
he  shouted,  "Brad!  Brad!  don't  go  nigh  her  for  your 
life !  The  dynamite's  aboard !" 

The  crowd  was  still.  Everyone  listened.  There 
was  no  reply,  but  they  heard  the  rattle  of  oars  in  a 
dory's  rowlocks. 

When  Bradley  came  out  of  the  kitchen,  after  the 
"burglar"  had  made  his  confession,  he  shook  hands 
with  Captain  Eri,  bade  the  latter  a  laughing  good 
night,  and  went  up  to  his  chamber.  It  was  a  long 
time  before  he  fell  asleep.  He  heard  a  steady  hum 
of  conversation  from  the  "old  maids'  "  room  and 
knew  the  sisters  were  going  over  the  astonishing 
events  of  the  evening.  Once  Miss  Tempy  cam^  to 
his  door  to  ask  in  a  whisper  if  he  knew  just  how  old 


354  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

Captain  Titcomb  was.  "Oh!  about  forty-eight  or 
fifty,"  he  answered,  smiling  to  himself. 

He  had  fallen  into  a  dose  and  was  dreaming  a  con- 
fused medley  in  which  the  sisters  and  he  were  chasing 
Sam  Hammond  from  one  room  to  another,  while  Gus 
locked  the  doors  in  front  of  them,  when  Clara's 
scream  of  "Fire!"  rang  through  the  house.  He  sat 
up  in  bed,  not  sure  whether  the  cry  was  real  or  a  part 
of  the  dream. 

But  the  next  moment  he  heard  footsteps  on  the 
stairs.  "Fire  !"  screamed  Clara,  rushing  through  the 
hall.  "Oh,  Brad !  get  up  quick !  The  Diving  Belle's 
all  on  fire!" 

He  was  cool,  surprisingly  cool,  as  it  seemed  to  him 
when  he  thought  of  it  afterwards.  His  first  move  was 
to  run  to  the  window,  open  it  and  lean  out.  At  first 
he  saw  nothing  but  the  black  night,  the  stars  and  the 
lights  on  the  horizon.  He  noticed,  too,  how  salty 
sweet  the  wind  smelt,  as  it  blew  from  the  flats  at  the 
foot  of  the  hill.  Then  he  saw  the  puff  of  flame  on 
the  schooner  in  the  harbor. 

Barefooted,  bareheaded,  dressed  only  in  his  trous- 
ers and  shirt,  but  struggling  into  his  jacket  as  he  ran, 
he  sprang  down  the  stairs.  The  sisters  caught  at  his 
arm  and  cried  something  or  other,  but  he  did  not  heed 
them.  Clara  called  after  him  that  Captain  Titcomb 
had  gone  to  the  schooner.  He  stopped  for  an  instant 
to  ask  her  to  rouse  some  of  the  neighbors  and  send 
them  to  the  wharf.  As  he  came  out  into  the  yard  he 
noticed  vaguely  that  there  was  a  light  in  one  of  the 
rooms  of  the  Baker  cottage. 


A  DEBT  IS  PAID  355 

He  took  the  same  route  that  his  partner  had  taken, 
but  made  better  time.  It  was  evident  that  the  fire  had 
been  seen  by  others,  for,  as  he  crossed  the  bridge  the 
schoolhouse  bell  began  to  ring.  It  came  to  him  like  a 
flash,  but  too  late,  that  he  might  have  saved  half  the 
distance  by  taking  one  of  the  skiffs  in  the  inlet  and 
rowing  straight  out  past  the  point. 

There  was  a  shouting  crowd  on  the  hill  above  the 
bridge,  but  he  could  see  no  boats  about  the  Diving 
Belle,  and  wondered  why.  Part  of  the  crowd  on  the 
hill  came  running  to  meet  him. 

"Who's  that?"  shouted  someone — Ira  Sparrow,  he 
thought. 

Bradley  did  not  answer.  "Who  is  it?"  cried  Ira 
again.  "Stop !" 

The  junior  partner  did  not  stop.  "Squealer"  Wixon 
got  in  his  way  and  caught  at  his  jacket.  Bradley 
tripped  him  up,  jumped  the  rail  fence  by  the  roadside 
and  ran  across  the  fields.  He  heard  "Squealer"  shout- 
ing his  name. 

The  wharf  was  empty.  Not  a  man  was  there.  He 
reached  the  stringpiece,  caught  at  the  painter  of  one 
of  the  dories  alongside,  and,  pulling  the  boat  toward 
him,  jumped  in.  Luckily  the  oars  were  lying  on  the 
thwarts.  He  picked  them  up,  and,  with  his  knife,  cut 
the  painter. 

And  then  he  heard  the  Captain's  voice,  calling  to 
him  from  the  hill,  "Brad!  Brad!  don't  go  nigh  her 
for  your  life!  The  dynamite's  aboard!" 

Like  his  partner,  Bradley  had  forgotten  the  dyna- 
mite. Mechanically  he  put  the  oars  in  the  rowlocks 


356  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

and  sat  motionless.  The  Captain  had  stopped  shout- 
ing. It  was  very  still.  He  heard  the  bell  ringing  in 
the  distance  and  the  gurgle  of  the  tide  amongst  the 
piles  under  the  wharf.  A  whiff  of  smoke  from  the 
Diving  Belle  blew  across  his  face,  and  he  turned  and 
looked  at  the  schooner. 

He  remembered  reading  in  the  Boston  Herald,  a 
month  or  so  before,  of  a  wrecking  vessel  that  had 
caught  on  fire  off  Long  Island  somewhere.  She,  too, 
had  dynamite  on  board  and  her  skipper  and  the  mate 
had  saved  her  by  throwing  the  explosive  overboard. 
But  they  were  on  deck  when  the  fire  started.  He 
looked  at  his  own  vessel,  the  schooner  that  he  and  the 
Captain  had  longed  for  and  worked  for,  and  petted 
like  a  baby.  Then  he  set  his  teeth  and  began  rowing. 

The  crackle  of  burning  timber  was  plain  as  he 
scrambled  over  the  Diving  Belle's  rail.  The  flames 
were  pouring  up  from  under  the  covering  of  the  main 
hatch  and  the  smoke  was  rolling  thick  from  the  cabin 
companion.  He  would  have  given  anything  for  an 
ax,  but  the  only  one  on  board  was  by  the  woodbox  in 
the  galley  below.  He  caught  up  the  boathook  that 
was  in  its  rack  by  the  bulwark  and  ran  to  the  hatch. 

He  put  the  point  of  the  hook  under  the  heavy  cover 
and  began  prying  the  latter  loose.  It  gave  a  little, 
slipped  back,  and  then  pulled  over  the  cleats.  With 
the  hook  he  got  a  firm  grip  upon  its  edge  and  turned 
it  over  with  a  clatter.  The  smoke  belched  up  in  a 
cloud,  but  as  it  cleared  he  fell  upon  his  knees  and 
peered  below. 

The  fire  was  almost  amidships,  among  some  loose 


A  DEBT  IS  PAID  357 

planks  and  an  empty  tar  barrel.  These  were  burning 
fiercely  and  the  beams  of  the  deck  were  blazing  above 
them.  But  the  dynamite  chest  was  further  forward, 
beyond  the  bulkhead,  which  was  only  beginning  to 
burn,  and  he  could  see  there  was  just  a  chance  of 
reaching  it  if  he  was  quick.  With  the  dynamite  once 
out  of  the  way,  help  from  the  shore  might  save  the 
schooner.  He  drew  a  long  breath  and  put  his  hands 
on  the  edges  of  the  hatch. 

Then  he  heard  a  faint  voice  calling  for  help. 

He  thought  for  a  moment  that  he  must  be  going 
crazy.  But  the  voice  called  again.  "Help !"  it  wailed. 
"Somebody  help!" 

Bradley  jumped  to  his  feet  and  ran  aft.  The  door 
at  the  head  of  the  cabin  stairs  had  been  left  open  when 
the  partners  went  home  the  previous  night,  but  Brad- 
ley had  pulled  the  sliding  hatch  shut.  Now  the  hatch 
was  pushed  back  as  far  as  it  would  go  and  the  door 
was  shut  tight. 

"Who  is  it?"  shouted  Bradley,  stooping  to  the 
opening  between  the  top  of  the  door  and  the  hatch. 
The  dense  smoke  in -his  face  made  him  cough. 

"Help !"  the  voice  came  up  through  the  smoke. 
"It's  me — Hammond." 

The  junior  partner  started  back.  "Hammond?" 
he  repeated.  "Hammond!"  And  then,  in  a  changed 
voice,  "What  are  you  doing  aboard  here?" 

"I  came  after  my  things.  I  forgot  about  the  spring 
lock.  Quick!  Oh,  quick!" 

"Came  after  your  things !  You  lie !  You  came  to 
set  this  fire !" 


358  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

There  was  no  reply  for  a  moment.  Only  a  gasp- 
ing, choking  sound  in  the  smoke.  Then  the  voice  be- 
gan again.  "Let  me  out !"  it  screamed.  "I'm  dying ! 
Brad  Nickerson,  you  want  to  murder  me !  Damn 
you,  let  me  out !  Oh,  please,  Brad !  for  God's  sake, 
please!"  , 

Bradley  stood  upright  and  looked  about  him.  His 
beloved  schooner  or  the  sneaking  enemy  who  had  set 
her  on  fire,  and  who  was  responsible  for  all  his  trou- 
bles— which?  To  force  that  cabin  door  meant  that 
the  flames  in  the  hold  would  have  time  to  burn 

through  the  bulkhead  and  then He  heaved  a 

long  sigh,  and  with  that  sigh  he  said  good-bye  to  the 
Diving  Belle.  He  turned  and  rushed  to  the  main 
hatch. 

The  prisoner  in  the  cabin  heard  him  go,  and 
screamed  choking  curses  after  him.  But  Bradley  had 
gone  only  to  get  the  boathook.  He  came  back 
with  it  and  began  the  attack  upon  the  door. 
That  door  was  built  of  tough  wood,  almost  new, 
and  the  Captain's  lock  was  new  also.  The  boat- 
hook  only  tore  off  splinters  and  chips.  Finally 
the  hook  broke  just  where  the  iron  joined  the 
handle. 

Sam  had  ceased  to  yell  and  beg  his  rescuer  to  hurry. 
His  cries  changed  to  coughs  and  strangling  moans. 
Then  he  was  silent  altogether.  Bradley,  desperate, 
threw  down  the  broken  boathook  and  ran  about  the 
deck,  hunting,  by  the  light  of  the  fire,  for  something 
heavy,  something  that  would  break  that  lock.  He 
picked  up  the  stout  beam,  reinforced  with  iron,  that 


A  DEBT  IS  PAID  359 

they  slung  over  the  vessel's  forequarter  when  they 
hoisted  heavy  chains  on  board. 

It  was  so  clumsy  that  he  could  scarcely  carry  it,  but 
he  stepped  back  by  the  wheel  to  get  a  start,  and,  run- 
ning forward,  threw  it  against  the  door.  The  dou- 
ble oak  panels  cracked  lengthwise.  Three  times  he 
hurled  the  battering  ram,  with  his  own  weight  behind 
it.  At  the  fourth  attempt  the  door  burst  inward  and 
he  fell  on  his  face. 

"Sam  !"  he  shouted.    "Sam !  come  on  I" 

But  Hammond  did  not  answer.  Shutting  his  eyes 
and  holding  his  breath,  Bradley  descended  the  cabin 
stairs.  Hammond  was  lying  unconscious  at  their  foot. 
The  junior  partner  dragged  him  to  the  deck  and  away 
from  the  smoke.  Then  he  shook  and  pounded  him 
savagely.  After  a  bit  the  fellow  opened  his  eyes  and 
gasped. 

Then  Bradley  left  him  and  ran  to  the  main  hatch. 
One  glance  showed  him  that  the  schooner  was  doom- 
ed and  that  the  dynamite  might  explode  at  any  mo- 
ment. The  thin  bulkhead  was  a  wall  of  flame  and 
was  shaking  like  a  sheet  of  paper  in  the  fierce 
draught.  Black  smoke,  powdered  with  sparks,  was 
vomiting  from  the  fo'castle.  The  Diving  Belle  was 
on  fire  from  stem  to  stern. 

Hammond  yelled  wildly  from  the  after  rail.  "The 
dory's  gone !"  he  shouted.  "My  dory's  gone !  Where's 
yours?" 

Bradley  had  not  stopped  to  fasten  the  dory  when 
he  boarded  the  schooner,  and  the  boat  had  drifted 
away.  Hammond,  half  drunk  when  he  left  the  wharf, 


360  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

had  bungled  the  knot  with  which  his  dory  was  fast- 
ened, and  that,  too,  was  gone. 

"We'll  have  to  swim,"  cried  Bradley.  "Jump 
quick !  She's  going  to  blow  up  !" 

Sam  sobbed  in  sheer  terror.  "I  can't  make  it,"  he 
screamed.  "I'm  too  weak.  I'll  drown." 

"You've  got  to  make  it.  Jump !  I'll  keep  close 
behind  you." 

Hammond  caught  at  a  shroud,  stepped  upon  the 
bulwark,  and  stood  there,  turning  a  white  face  first 
toward  the  shore,  and  then  back  at  his  companion. 
There  was  a  muffled  rumble  from  the  hold.  The  bulk- 
head had  fallen. 

"Jump  !"  shouted  Bradley.    "Jump  !" 

Sam  threw  up  his  arms  and  leaped  from  the  stern. 
Bradley  cast  one  glance  over  the  poor  Diving  Belle, 
ran  to  the  rail  by  the  foremast  and  dove  into  the 
water. 

At  that  moment,  before  his  head  appeared  above 
the  surface,  there  came  a  dull  roar  from  the  schooner's 
hold.  She  rocked  like  a  rowboat  among  breakers.  A 
flame  burst  from  her  hatches  and  fo'castle  and 
streamed  to  the  top  of  her  foremast,  every  rope  of 
which  caught  fire.  Her  entire  bow  was  a  great  torch 
that  dipped,  now  this  way,  now  that. 

Hammond,  swimming  for  his  life,  yelled  with 
fright.  Bradley,  caught  in  the  waves  made  by  the 
rocking  of  the  Diving  Belle,  was,  for  a  moment,  un- 
able to  make  any  headway.  Vaguely  he  wondered 
why  he  had  not  been  killed.  And  then  the  foremast 
swung  above  his  head  and  the  heavy  hoisting  block  in 


A  DEBT  IS  PAID  361 

the  forerigging  snapped  from  its  burning  tackle,  shot 
out  into  the  air  and  fell,  striking  him  on  the  forehead. 
He  remembered  almost  nothing  of  what  happened 
after  that;  nothing  except  fighting  to  keep  afloat,  and 
the  intense  cold  of  the  water. 

Captain  Titcomb  on  the  hill  had  fought  and  strug- 
gled, and  pleaded  to  be  allowed  to  go  to  his  partner's 
aid.  But  Captain  Taylor  said,  "Better  one  than  two," 
and  most  of  the  others  agreed  with  him.  "Squealer" 
Wixon  was  going  through  the  crowd,  telling  all  who 
would  listen  that  if  he  had  not  had  some  fellows  at 
his  house,  "settin'  up"  playing  cards,  the  fire  would 
not  have  been  discovered.  As  the  blaze  grew  brighter 
and  Bradley  could  be  seen  running  about  the 
schooner's  deck,  Alvin  Bearse  volunteered  to  go  with 
his  skipper  and  attempt  a  rescue,  but  they  would  not 
let  him  try.  In  whispers  people  were  asking  one  an- 
other how  long  it  would  last.  Every  now  and  then 
they  called  to  Bradley,  telling  him  to  come  ashore. 

When  Hammond  appeared  on  deck  there  was  a 
great  commotion.  No  one  knew  who  it  was.  But 
when  he  stood  upon  the  rail,  with  the  fire  behind  him, 
a  dozen  shouted  his  name.  Captain  Titcomb  shouted 
it,  and  swore.  A  moment  later  came  the  explosion. 

Fifty  men  started  for  the  wharf  then,  but  the  Cap- 
tain was  far  in  the  lead.  He  leaped  into  a  dory  and 
pushed  off.  The  harbor  was  almost  as  light  as  day. 
In  the  centre  of  the  light  the  two  figures  in  the  water 
were  splashing  silhouettes. 

And  suddenly  the  Captain,  rowing  frantically,  was. 


362  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

aware  that  another  boat  was  nearer  the  schooner  than 
his  own.  A  small  skiff,  rowed  by  a  bareheaded  girl, 
had  come  from  behind  the  point  and  was  speeding, 
with  long,  sure  strokes,  toward  the  swimmers. 

Hammond  saw  it.  "Help!"  he  shouted,  waving 
one  arm.  "Help!  I'm  drowning!  Save  me!" 

The  skiff  was  almost  upon  him.  He  reached  out  to 
grasp  its  side.  But  the  rower,  though  she  turned  and 
looked  directly  into  his  face,  did  not  stop.  She  kept 
straight  on — past  him — almost  over  him. 

And  Captain  Titcomb,  as  he  seized  Sam  Hammond 
by  the  coat-collar,  saw  Gus  Baker  lean  from  her  skiff 
and  drag  to  its  low  gunwale  the  helpless  form  of 
Bradley  Nickerson. 

Then,  with  a  hiss,  and  wrapped  in  a  great  white 
robe  of  steam,  the  Diving  Belle  dove  to  the  bottom  of 
the  harbor. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

"STORM  ALONG,  JOHN!" 

AT  nine  o'clock  that  morning  Bradley,  with  his 
head  bandaged,  sat  in  the  rocking  chair  by 
the  window  of  his  chamber,  looking  out.  On 
the  table  beside  him  were  medicine  vials,  teaspoons 
and  a  pencilled  memorandum   in   Doctor   Palmer's 
handwriting.    Also  there  was  an  Emulsion  bottle  and 
a  steaming  pitcher  of  "pepper  tea."   These  last  were 
Miss  Tempy's  contributions.   That  lady  herself,  with 
a  face  whiter  even  than  Bradley's  own,  and  with  fin- 
gers that  shook  until  holding  a  needle  was  next  to  an1 


364  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

impossibility,  was  seated  in  a  chair  by  the  door,  pre- 
tending to  sew.  Every  now  and  then  she  looked  up, 
seemed  about  to  speak,  and  then,  seeing  the  expression 
on  the  young  man's  face,  remained  silent.  Occasion- 
ally she  wiped  her  eyes  with  her  handkerchief. 

Miss  Prissy  was  downstairs  in  the  sitting-room  lis- 
tening to  the  steady  stream  of  conversation  and  ques- 
tions that  flowed  from  the  lips  of  Melissa  Busteed. 
Miss  Busteed  had  left  her  breakfast  dishes  unwashed, 
so  that  she  might  be  the  first  to  visit  the  Allen  home. 

Clara  rapped  on  the  bedroom  door.  "Bradley," 
she  said,  "Cap'n  Titcomb  is  downstairs.  May  He 
come  up?" 

Miss  Tempy  spoke  and  with  decision.  "No,  in- 
deed!" she  exclaimed.  "The  Doctor  said  Bradley 
wasn't  to  see  anybody.  I  should  think  the  Cap'n 
Would " 

She  bit  her  lips  and  sewed  vigorously.  Bradley 
turned  from  the  window. 

"Tell  the  Cap'n  to  come  right  up,"  he  said.  "Yes, 
Miss  Tempy;  I  must  see  him." 

Miss  Tempy  started  to  protest,  but  did  not.  In- 
stead she  picked  up  her  workbasket  and  rose.  "Now, 

Bradley,  please "  she  pleaded,  with  emotion, 

"don't  talk  about  the — about  your  bus'ness  and  git 

over-excited.  It's  bad  enough  as  it  is  without 

Good  mornin',  Cap'n  Titcomb." 

Her  salutation  was  formal  and  very  dignified.  So 
also  was  her  manner  as  she  swept  out  of  the  room. 
The  Captain  said,  "Good  mornin',"  in  an  absent- 
minded  way.  He  looked  pale  and  anxious  and  there 


"STORM  ALONG,  JOHN!"  365: 

were  circles  under  his  eyes.  He  went  over  and  shook 
his  partner's  hand.  Then  he  sat  down  heavily  in  Miss 
Tempy's  chair. 

"Well,  Cap'n,"  said  Bradley,  cheerfully,  "I've  been 
expecting  you.  I  must  look  about  as  you  did  the 
morning  after  you  butted  into  the  Thomas  Doane's 
deck." 

Captain  Titcomb  did  not  smile.  "I've  seen  the 
Doctor,"  he  observed.  "He  says  you'll  be  all  right  in 
a  couple  of  days.  I'm  glad  of  that  much,  anyhow. " 

"I'm  all  right  now.  Little  shaky,  that's  all."  Then, 
after  a  pause,  "Well?" 

His  partner  drew  a  long  breath.  "Well,"  he  said, 
slowly,  "I've  done  it  this  time,  ain't  I?  I  ought  ta 
hunt  up  Jabe  Bailey  and  tell  him  I  realize  he  had  me 
sized  up  'bout  right.  Ez  Titcomb,  the  blasted  fool !" 
He  laughed  bitterly. 

"I  don't  see  that  you've  done  it  any  more  than  I 
have,"  was  Bradley's  calm  reply. 

"Yes,  you  do,  too.  You  kept  after  me  with  a  sharp 
stick  'bout  that  dynamite,  and  I,  like  the  idiot  I  am, 
let  it  go.  I've  seen  Obed  this  mornin'.  We  don't  git 
the  insurance." 

"Of  course  not.    I  was  sure  of  that." 

The  Captain  was  silent.  Then  he  struck  the  arrn^ 
of  his  chair  and  swore  between  his  teeth.  "I  ain't  a 
murderin'  man,  gin'rally  speakin',"  he  muttered,  "but 
I'd  give  ten  years  of  my  life  to  have  my  hand  on  that 
cuss  Hammond's  chicken  neck  jest  about  now." 

Bradley  looked  out  of  the  window.  "Where  is  he?'* 
he  asked. 


366  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

"Nobody  knows.  I  cal'late  he's  skipped  the  town. 
Good  thing  for  him !  But  we'll  land  him  yit,  as  soon 
as  I  can  git  the  sheriff  on  his  tracks." 

"Do  people  know  he  set  the  fire  ?" 

"No,  not  for  sartin.  Some  might  suspect,  I  s'pose, 
but  I  ain't  said  nothin'  to  anybody  yit.  I  will,  though, 
you  bet  your  life  on  that!" 

"No,  you  won't.    I  don't  want  you  to." 

Captain  Titcomb  sat  up  straight.  "Don't  want  me 
to?"  he  repeated. 

"No.  I  ask  you,  as  a  favor  to  me,  not  to  tell  any- 
body. Let  them  guess  whatever  they  please,  but  don't 
tell  them  the  truth." 

The  senior  partner  was  dumb  with  astonishment. 
He  looked  curiously  at  his  companion.  "I — I  s'pose 
likely  you  know  who  snaked  you  out  of  the  wet  last 
night?"  he  asked,  after  a  bit. 

"Yes." 

Bradley  knew  that  Gus  had  picked  him  up  as  he 
wallowed  unconscious  in  the  water.  Clara  had  told 
him,  and  the  Captain  had  told  her  when  they  brought 
the  young  man  home.  For  a  moment  his  heart  had 
leaped  with  a  great  joy,  but  then  he  remembered  that 
Hammond  had  been  on  the  schooner,  and  in  plain 
sight  from  the  shore.  Not  for  an  instant  did  Bradley 
think  that  the  girl  knew  for  what  purpose  her  lover 
had  boarded  the  Diving  Belle,  but  she  had,  no  doubt, 
seen  him  there,  as  had  the  others,  and  gone  to  his  res- 
cue. He  pitied  her — when  she  should  learn  what  sort 
of  a  man  Hammond  was,  but  he  determined  she 
should  learn  it  from  other  lips  than  his. 


"STORM  ALONG,  JOHN!"  367 

So  he  was  silent,  and  Captain  Titcomb  did  not  men- 
tion the  subject  again.  At  length  the  latter  said: 
"Well,  Brad,  there's  no  use  of  my  askin'  you  to  for- 
give me,  because  it  ain't  a  forgivin'  kind  of  deal.  I 
got  you  into  this  wreckin'  game,  and  you  did  a  blame 
sight  more'n  I  did  to  make  it  grow.  I  was  the  crazy 
fool  that  took  the  contract  that's  goin'  to  bust  us,  and 
I  took  it  in  spite  of  your  tellin'  me  not  to.  And  now, 
all  along  of  me,  we've  lost  the  schooner,  insurance  and 
all.  I  don't  care  for  myself,  but  I — I  like  you,  Brad. 
I  never  took  to  man  nor  boy  as  I've  took  to  you.  And, 
by  crimus,  when  I  think  of  how  I've  ruined  you,  I'm 
ready  to  go  down  to  the  dock  and  say,  'Here  goes 
nothin','  and  jump  off.  If  it  waif  t  for  Clara,  I  car- 
late  I  would." 

"Don't  talk  that  way,  Cap'n  Ez,"  began  Bradley, 
but  the  Captain  went  on. 

"There's  one  thing,  though,"  he  said.  "You  shan't 
have  none  of  the  blame.  I'll  tell  every  man  in  this 
town  that  'twas  all  me.  I'll  go  up  to  Cook  and  Son 
and  let  them  know  it,  too.  I'll  work  out  the  schooner 
debt  for  the  bank  folks,  and  I'll  git  you  the  best 
mate's  job  that  I  can.  Of  course,  that  don't  make  up 
for  the  wrong  I've  done  you,  but " 

"Cap'n  Ez,"  interrupted  Bradley,  looking  keenly 
at  his  partner,  "why  do  you  speak  of  getting  me  a 
mate's  job  ?  Is  it  because  you  feel  that,  now  the  Div- 
ing Belle  is  gone,  we  can't  carry  through  the  con- 
tract?" 

The  senior  partner's  answer  was  prompt -enough, 
but  he  looked  at  the  floor  when  he  made  it.  ''Can 


3 68  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

we  carry  it  through  ?"  he  rejoined.  "Maybe  you  don't 
understand  how  things  are  with  us.  What  little  money 
we've  got  on  hand  belongs  to  the  folks  that  hold  the 
mortgage  on  the  schooner;  we  can't  use  it.  We  ain't 
got  any  vessel  now,  nor  any  craft  with  power,  to  help 
us  out.  We  can't  weather  another  pay-day  unless 
somebody  lends  us  more  money,  and  who'd  be 
jackass  enough  to  do  that,  even  if  I  had 
the  brass  to  ask  for  it?  No,  Brad;  the  best 
thing  for  you  is  to  quit  and  git  to  sea  again 
afore  I  sink  you  so  deep  you'll  never  come  to  the 
top." 

Bradley  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  smiled. 
"Cap'n,"  he  said,  "I  see  through  you  like  a  book. 
You  talk  of  quitting  because  you  don't  want  me  to 
take  any  more  chances.  If  you  were  alone  in  the  deal 
you'd  go  ahead  somehow." 

"No,  I  wouldn't." 

"Shut  up ;  I  know  you.  Now,  listen :  I  know  how 
we  stand,  but  I  say  fight  it  out.  Come  on !  we'll  go 
down  to  the  Point  and  work  harder  than  ever,  nights 
and  Sundays  and  all.  We'll  keep  a  stiff  upper  lip,  and, 
by  the  living  jingo,  we'll  clear  the  Freedom  or  go  to 
pieces  with  her!" 

The  Captain  sprang  to  his  feet.  "Do  you  mean 
that  you'll  stick  to  me  in  spite  of  what  I've  done?" 
he  cried. 

"You  ought  to  know  I  will.  As  for  blame,  it's  as 
much  mine  as  yours.  Will  you  stick  by  me  and  keep 
up  the  fight?" 

"Will  I?    Will  11    Brad— Brad,  you  know " 


"STORM  ALONG,  JOHN!"  369 

He  turned  his  face  away,  but  he  stretched  out  his 
hand.  Bradley  seized  and  wrung  it. 

"And  now,"  said  Bradley,  "we'll  go  down  to  the 
Point." 

"You're  not  goin'  to  the  Point  to-day!  Son,  youVe 
done  more'n  enough  for  me  as  'tis;  don't  kill  your- 
self." 

"Get  my  overcoat  and  hat.    I'm  going  to  the  Point 


now" 


And  he  went  in  spite  of  his  partner's  protests  and 
the  "old  maids'  "  pleadings  and  direful  prophecies 
concerning  his  health.  He  was  kind,  but  so  firm  that 
they  soon  saw  there  was  no  use  arguing.  Miss  Prissy, 
however,  at  a  great  sacrifice  to  her  pride,  called  the 
Captain  to  one  side  and  whispered : 

"Cap'n  Titcomb,  I'm  'fraid  he's  goin'  to  his  death. 
Take  care  of  him  and  keep  him  out  of  danger.  Don't 
let  him  git  cold.  If  you  knew  how  much  store  Tempy 
and  me  set  by  him,  you'd " 

She  could  not  finish. 

"I  know,  Prissy,"  replied  the  Captain,  earnestly. 
"I  cal'late  I  feel  a  little  that  way  towards  the  boy 
myself.  Brad  seems  to  have  took  the  bit  in  his  teeth 
lately,  but  I'll  bring  him  back  safe  or  stay  there  my- 
self for  good." 

Ira  Sparrow  took  them  to  the  Point  in  the  You  and 
I.  Bearse,  Ellis  and  some  of  the  other  men  went  with 
them.  On  the  way  Bradley  and  his  partner  discussed 
the  situation.  The  work  on  the  barge  was  going  on 
as  if  nothing  had  happened,  although  the  news  of  the 
firm's  loss  had  been  telephoned  to  the  life-saving  sta- 


370  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

tion  early  that  morning.  Barney  Small  met  them  as 
they  climbed  over  the  Freedom's  rail.  He  was  very 
sober  and  shook  his  employers'  hands  with  silent  sym- 
pathy. 

"I  told  the  boys  to  turn  to,"  he  said.  "I  didn't 
know  what  your  plans  was,  but  I  wan't  goin'  to  quit 
till  you  said  the  word." 

"Much  obliged,  Barney,"  said  Bradley.  "Call  all 
hands  aft.  I  want  to  talk  to  them." 

The  men  came  in  groups,  soot-streaked  and  per- 
spiring. They  gathered  in  the  waist,  whispering  to 
each  other  and  glancing  askance  at  Captain  Titcomb 
and  Bradley,  who  stood  upon  the  raised  deck  by  the 
wheel.  In  most  of  the  grimy,  sunburned  faces  there 
was  a  friendly  concern.  All  looked  embarrassed  and 
awkward.  When  the  whole  crew  was  standing  there, 
silently  waiting,  the  Captain  came  forward. 

"Men,"  he  said,  "there  ain't  any  need  for  me  to 
tell  you  what's  happened.  The  Divin'  Belle  was 
burned  last  night,  and  she  wan't  insured.  Most  of 
you  know  what  that  means  to  me  and  my  partner.  A 
good  many  of  you  are  fellers  I've  known  all  my  life. 
Some  of  you  like  me — some,  maybe,  don't.  You  know 
that  ha'f  of  Orham  is  sayin'  this  mornin'  that  Ez  Tit- 
comb's  got  what  was  com  in'  to  him  at  last.  All  ri^ht, 
the  blame's  mine  and  I'll  take  my  medicine  without 
makin'  any  faces  over  it.  I  don't  ask  anything  for 
myself.  But  I  do  ask  you  to  listen  to  what  this  boy 
here,"  laying  his  hand  on  Bradley's  shoulder,  "has 
got  to  say.  That's  all.  Now,  Brad." 

There  was  a  stir  throughout  the  crowd  as  Bradley 


"STORM  ALONG,  JOHN!"  37 r 

stepped  forward.  He  was  silent  for  an  instant,  look- 
ing down  at  them.  'Then  he  spoke. 

"Fellows,"  he  said,  "when  Cap'n  Titcomb  and  I 
took  the  contract  to  get  this  barge  off  the  shoals  we 
risked  every  dollar  we  had.  More  than  that,  we 
mortgaged  our  new  schooner  to  raise  money  to  pay 
you  with.  She  was  burned  last  night,  and,  as  the 
Cap'n  said,  there  is  no  insurance.  The  little  money 
we  have  on  hand  belongs  to  the  people  who  took  the 
mortgage.  We  couldn't  pay  you  for  another  week's 
work.  So  then,  either  we  must  give  up  the  contract — 
which  will  ruin  us  and  drive  the  firm  out  of  the  wreck- 
ing business  for  good — or  we  must  come  to  you  with 
another  proposition.  I  think  every  man  who  has 
worked  for  us  knows  that  we  don't  play  favorites. 
Every  fellow  knows  that  he'll  be  treated  fair  so  long 
as  he  does  his  work.  But  this  I  want  to  say — we'll 
stick  to  those  who  stick  by  us.  We  shan't  forget  our 
friends.  And  this  is  our  proposition:  To  the  men 
who  will  volunteer  to  help  us  get  this  barge  afloat,  we 
will  pay  four  dollars  a  day — instead  of  three,  as 
you're  getting  now — when  we  float  her  and  get  our 
money.  If  we  fail,  you  get  nothing  and  so  do  we. 
If  we  win,  you  win.  We  can  float  her  if  the 
weather  holds  good.  What  I'm  asking  is  that  you 
share  our  chances.  It's  up  to  you.  What  do  you 
say?" 

Bradley  stopped  and  put  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 
The  men  shuffled  their  feet  and  looked  at  each  other. 
One  or  two  of  them  whispered  behind  their  hands. 
Then  Barney  Small  snatched  his  rusty  cloth  cap  from 


372  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

his  head,  tossed  it  to  the  deck,  and  jumped  upon  it 
with  both  feet. 

"Stage  is  ready  for  Orham,  South  Orham,  West 
Harniss  and  Setuckit  P'int,"  he  shouted.  "Git  aboard! 
Come  on,  you  lubbers !  Have  me  and  Brad  and  Cap'n 
Ez  got  to  work  her  off  alone?" 

Alvin  Bearse  struck  the  ex-stage  driver  a  resound- 
ing thump  in  the  back.  "You  bet  you  ain't !"  he  cried. 
"I'm  in!" 

"Me,  too!"  said  Ira  Sparrow. 

"Present  and  accounted  for,"  observed  Bill  Tay- 
lor. Ellis  simply  nodded  and  stepped  forward.  Oth- 
ers joined  them,  by  twos  and  threes. 

Then  Peleg  Myrick  sauntered  to  the  front.  "I 
dunno's  I  jest  understand  what  the  boss  wants,"  he 
drawled;  "but  if  there's  anything  me  and  Skeezicks 
can  do,  why " 

There  was  a  great  shout  of  laughter.  Peleg  was 
indignant  "What's  the  matter  with  you?"  he  snort- 
ed. "That  dog's  got  a  durn  sight  more  sense  than 
most  of  them  what  makes  fun  of  him." 

"Right  you  be !"  bellowed  Barney.  "Come  on,  you 
loafers !  Are  you  goin'  to  be  beat  by  a  Greaser  pup — 
a  bald  one  at  that?" 

That  settled  it.  There  was  a  cheer,  and  the  men 
began  pushing  each  other  out  of  the  way  to  join  the 
volunteers.  In  a  few  minutes  there  were  only  five 
who  had  not  come  forward. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you,  Lon?"  asked  Alvin 
Bearse,  sarcastically.  "Be  your  feet  asleep  ?" 

Mr.  Clark  looked  uneasy,  but  he  did  not  move.   "I 


"STORM  ALONG,  JOHN!"  373 

ain't  used  to  workin'  for  nuthin',"  he  replied,  sul- 
lenly. 

"Nor  me  nuther,"  agreed  Ike  Bodkin,  standing  by 
his  friend. 

"Nothin'  is  about  twice  what  you're  wuth,"  cried 
Barney,  indignantly.  "By  Judas,  if  you  can't  work 
you  can  swim !  Let's  give  'em  a  bath,  fellers.  They 
need  it." 

He  started  for  the  frightened  five.  Others  followed 
him.  There  were  cries  of  "Chuck  'em  overboard!" 
Bradley  shouted,  "Stop !" 

"Let  them  alone,  boys,"  he  commanded.  "Clark, 
you  and  Ike  and  the  rest,  take  one  of  those  dories  and 
make  for  the  Point.  Lively!  Fellows,"  he  added, 
turning  to  the  others,  "Cap'n  Titcomb  and  I  are  much 
obliged.  Now,  then,  turn  to !" 

In  five  minutes  the  crowd  had  scattered,  the  engines 
were  puffing,  and  the  great  buckets  were  emptying  the 
coal  from  the  Freedom's  hold  into  the  sea. 

"Son,"  said  Captain  TitcomH,  laying  a  hand  on  his 
partner's  arm,  "they  did  that  for  you,  not  me.  If  we 
should  win  out  on  this  job,  the  credit'll  belong  to  you. 
And  now  for  it !  It's  neck  or  nothin'  this  time  sure !" 

And  after  that  came  work,  work,  work.  The  men 
were  organized  into  day  and  night  gangs.  Bradley 
commanded  the  former,  Captain  Titcomb  the  latter. 

The  Freedom  at  night  was  a  strange  spectacle. 
Lanterns  were  hung  all  over  her  deck  and  within  her 
hull.  They  sparkled  in  clusters  by  her  hatches;  they 
swung  beside  the  tackles  in  the  rigging.  The  life 


374  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

savers  patrolling  Setuckit  beach  heard,  above  the 
crash  and  boom  of  the  surf  along  the  shore,  the  roar 
of  the  falling  coal  and  the  shrill  whistle  of  the  donkey 
engines.  Looking  down  through  the  black  squares 
of  the  hatchways,  one  saw  active  figures  capering 
above  with  shovels  in  their  hands.  Shouts  came 
up.  Queer,  distorted  shadows  flickered,  stretched  to 
gigantic  size,  or  shrunk  to  those  of  pudgy  dwarfs. 
But  the  shadows  were  never  still,  never  the  same; 
they  were  always  busy. 

The  partners  hired  the  You  and  I  to  do  what  she 
could  of  the  work  the  Diving  Belle  had  been  engaged 
in.  The  lack  of  the  schooner  was  a  great  handicap, 
but  they  had  no  funds  with  which  to  hire  a  large 
vessel. 

They  made  their  headquarters  aboard  the  barge 
now.  Bradley  did  not  go  up  to  Orham  at  all.  When 
his  day's  work  was  over,  he  ate  a  hasty  supper  and 
tumbled  into  a  berth  in  the  skipper's  cabin,  sometimes 
to  sleep,  but  more  often  to  lie  awake  and  plan  for  the 
morrow.  He  was  still  pale  and  weak  from  the  effects 
of  the  blow  on  the  head,  but  he  would  not  take  it 
easy,  as  the  Captain  begged.  The  worry  and  strain 
of  the  labor  were,  in  a  sense,  reliefs  to  him ;  they  kept 
him  from  thinking  of  other  things. 

Each  morning  the  "old  maids"  telephoned  to  the 
station  to  learn  how  he  felt,  and  how  the  work  was 
progressing.  Bradley  gathered  from  Miss  Prissy's 
anxious  remarks  that,  in  the  village,  the  partners' 
failure  was  regarded  as  a  foregone  conclusion.  The 
news  made  him  only  more  determined  to  succeed. 


"STORM  ALONG,  JOHN!"  375- 

Cook  and  Sons  wired  daily,  and  every  afternoon  a 
report  was  sent  to  them.  These  reports  were  grow- 
ing more  optimistic.  The  barge  was  eating  her  way 
steadily  through  the  shoal,  and  as  she  was  lightened 
she  moved  faster.  They  watched  the  cables  as  a  cat 
watches  a  rat  hole,  keeping  them  always  tight.  The 
Captain  said,  "Brad,  if  I  didn't  know  what  was  the 
matter,  I  should  b'lieve  my  old  Sunday-school  teacher 
was  right.  He  always  swore  I'd  be  hung  some  day, 
and  now  all  I  can  dream  about  is  ropes." 

The  Captain's  energy  was  something  wonderful. 
A  nervous  man  by  nature,  he  flew  from  one  end  of  the 
Freedom  to  the  other,  commanding,  helping,  hurry- 
ing. With  the  men  he  was  always  cheerful  and  sure 
of  success,  but  once  in  a  while,  alone  with  his  partner, 
he  showed  his  real  feelings.  One  morning,  before 
"turning  in,"  he  went  ashore  to  telephone.  When  he 
came  back  he  called  Bradley  aside  and  said: 

"Brad,  Sam  says  the  Gov'ment  weather  folks  are 
foretellin'  a  big  storm  for  day  after  to-morrer.  It's 
comin'  from  the  south  and'll  strike  here  about  then. 
It's  a  terror,  they  say.  It  worries  me.  I'm  more  scart 
of  a  gale  of  wind  jest  now  than  I  am  of  the  Old 
Harry  himself." 

The  junior  partner  looked  troubled.  "Wonder  if 
that's  what's  distressing  Peleg?"  he  observed.  "Peleg 
has  been  after  me  ever  since  the  fire.  Says  he's  got 
something  to  tell  me." 

"He's  been  pesterin'  me,  too.  I  ain't  had  no  time 
to  listen  to  his  yarns.  Let's  see  him." 

They  sent  for  the  weather  prophet,  who  appeared, 


37 6  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

dirtier  than  ever.  "Look  here,  Peleg,"  was  the  Cap- 
tain's salutation.  "What  do  we  feed  you  for?  Here's 
the  Gov'ment  weather  sharp  smellin'  out  a  gale,  and 
you  ain't  peeped.  You'll  have  to  put  specs  on  your 
second  sight,  or  we'll  ship  a  new  prophet,  one  or 
t'other." 

Mr.  Myrick  was  troubled.  "Now,  Cap'n  Ez,"  he 
protested,  in  an  aggrieved  tone,  "ain't  I  been  tryin'  to 
git  at  you  or  Brad  for  four  days  or  more?  /  know 
there  was  a  blow  comin'.  She's  comin'  a-bilin',  too. 
And  I  don't  need  no  specs  nuther." 

"Humph!  Brad,  this  is  the  devil  and  all,  ain't  it? 
That'll  do,  Peleg." 

"But,  Cap'n  Ez,  there's  somethin'  else  I  wanted  to 
tell  you.  I " 

"Never  mind  now.    Put  it  on  ice.    Git !" 

Peleg  "got,"  but  with  reluctance.  He  kept  looking 
back  and  shaking  his  head.  Captain  Ezra's  face  was 
very  solemn.  His  forehead  wrinkled  and  he  pulled 
his  mustache  nervously. 

"By  crimustee!"  he  muttered.  "We've  got  to  "do 
somethin'  quick.  I  know  you  don't  take  any  stock  in 
Peleg,  but  if  that  gale  does  come,  we're  knocked 
higher'n  the  main  truck.  She's  loosenin'  up  so  now 
that  a  tug  might  help  us.  I  can  git  a  little  one  from 
Vineyard  Haven,  skipper,  engineer  and  all,  for  forty 
dollars  a  day." 

"But  they  won't  work  on  spec." 

"No.  I'm  goin'  to  Wellmouth  to  see  the  bank 
folks.  I'll  tell  'em  that  if  they  ever  hope  to  git  back 
the  rest  of  the  money  they  lent  on  the  Divin'  Belle, 


"STORM  ALONG,  JOHN!"  377 

they  must  risk  enough  to  pay  for  that  tug.    I'm  goin* 


now." 


1  'But  you've  been  up  all  night.  Let  me  go.  You 
turn  in." 

"Turn  in  be  durned!  I'd  sleep  about  as  sound  as 
an  eel  on  a  perch  hook.  I  can  turn  in  when  I  can't  do^ 
anything  else.  Good-bye.  Put  in  your  spare  time 
prayin'  for  me,  will  you?" 

He  went  to  Wellmouth,  saw  the  people  at  the  bank, 
and,  as  he  said,  "talked  from  his  boots  up."  At 
twelve  o'clock  of  the  following  day  the  little  tug  put 
in  an  appearance.  She  got  a  grip  on  the  Freedom's 
bow  and  pulled  with  the  tide. 

The  expected  gale  did  not  come  that  day.  But  the 
next  afternoon  the  sky  was  overcast  and  the  sun  dis- 
appeared behind  angry  clouds.  It  was  blowing  fresh 
when  Bradley,  worn  out,  went  to  his  berth  at  nine 
o'clock.  He  had  fought  against  going  at  all,  but  Cap- 
tain Titcomb  said,  "Put  in  an  hour  or  two  anyway. 
I'll  call  you  if  you're  wanted." 

He  called  him  before  the  second  hour  was  up. 
"Come  on  deck,  Brad,"  he  cried,  excitedly.  "That 
sou'easter's  on  the  road  and  it's  backin'  up  the  biggest 
tide  ever  I  saw.  'Tain't  high  water  till  two,  but  she's 
pretty  nigh  as  high  as  usual  now." 

The  junior  partner  hurried  on  deck.  The  wincf 
was  singing  in  the  rigging  and  the  waves  were  rushing 
past  the  barge,  slapping  furiously  at  her  as  they 
passed.  The  night  was  a  dead  black  and  the  surf  on 
the  ocean  side  of  the  Point  boomed  like  heavy  artil- 
lery. 


378  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

"I've  sent  ashore  for  the  day  shift,"  said  the  Cap- 
tain. "We've  got  to  make  our  fight  now.  Looks  as 
if  'twas  out  last  chance,  and  a  mighty  slim  one." 

The  dories  brought  the  tired  men  from  the  beach. 
They  had  worked  hard  all  day,  but  they  were  ready 
to  work  still  harder  now.  They  realized  that,  one 
way  or  another,  this  was  the  end  of  the  big  job. 

The  little  tug,  bouncing  up  and  down  on  the  waves, 
was  throwing  her  whole  weight  on  the  tow  line.  Alvin 
Bearse  stood  by  the  donkey  engine,  ready  to  take  in 
every  inch  of  the  cable.  ^.The  partners  were  in  the 
bow.  The  buckets  were  flying  from  the  hold. 

"She  gained  a  heap  last  tide,"  murmured  the  Cap- 
tain. "This  extry  high  water  and  the  waves  ought  to 
help  her  like  fun.  But  I'm  'fraid  'twon't  be  enough, 
and  to-morrer  the' sou'easter'll  land  with  both  feet." 

Waiting  was  the  hardest  thing.  A  half  hour  seem- 
ed longer  than  an  ordinary  day.  The  wind  gained  in 
force,  little  by  little.  The  tide  crept  up  the  barge's 
side.  At  one  o'clock  it  was  far  higher  than  it  had 
ever  reached  before,  and  so  powerful  was  its  rush 
that  the  huge  hull  quivered  in  its  grasp.  The  water, 
seen  by  the  lantern's  light,  was  the  color  of  chocolate, 
streaked  and  marbled  with  lines  and  eddies  of  foam. 

Half-past  one.  The  Captain  put  his  watch  in  his 
pocket  and  wiped  his  forehead. 

"I  know  how  it  feels  when  you're  waitin'  to  be 
hung,"  he  observed.  "Thirty  minutes  for  the  firm  to 
live,  Brad;  then " 

A  mighty  blow  from  a  wave,  a  tremble,  and  then  a 
roll.  The  lanterns  in  the  rigging  spun  around  in  cir- 


"STORM  ALONG,  JOHN!"  379 

cles.  The  men  on  the  deck  and  below  fell  in  heaps. 
The  Freedom  lifted,  straightened,  and  began  to  rock 
in  her  "cradle."  The  cables  sagged  into  loops.  Their 
silent  partner,  the  Tide,  had  come  to  the  firm's  rescue. 

Bradley  got  upon  his  feet.  "Haul  tautl"  he 
screamed.  Before  the  order  was  given  Bearse  was 
back  at  his  engine.  The  windlass  shrieked. 

Captain  Titcomb  roared  through  his  speaking 
trumpet.  The  towboat  shot  forward,  then  back,  her 
screw  threshing  the  water.  The  little  You  and  I 
bobbed  beside  her;  she  was  pulling,  too. 

And  then,  a  long  scraping,  breathless  interval.  A 
halt,  a  shock,  and,  pushing  a  wall  of  sand  before  her, 
the  Freedom  plunged  into  deep  water. 

There  was  no  cheering.  A  subdued  murmur,  like 
a  sigh,  came  from  the  crowd  on  her  deck.  Men  drew 
sooty  arms  across  wet  foreheads  and  looked  at  each 
other  without  speaking.  She  was  off  the  shoal,  but 
far  from  being  out  of  danger  yet.  She  must  be  got 
over  into  the  deep  hole  behind  the  Point,  where  she 
could  safely  ride  out  the  coming  gale.  And  to  get 
her  into  this  haven  there  was  only  the  little  tug  to 
depend  upon.  Could  the  tiny  craft  do  it  in  that  wind 
and  sea?  If  not,  then  the  barge  would  almost  surely 
drag  her  anchors,  would  strike  again,  and  then — well,, 
then  all  the  work,  and  the  triumph  so  nearly  won^. 
would  count  for  nothing. 

They  brought  her  up  to  her  anchors,  out  in  the 
middle  of  the  channel.  There  they  waited  for  the 
tide  to  turn.  The  silence  was  heart-breaking.  Only 
now  and  then  did  anyone  speak.  In  clusters  by  the 


380  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

rail  they  stared  at  the  big  waves  and  the  foam-streaks 
gliding  by.  At  last  Captain  Titcomb  snapped  his 
watchcase  shut,  and  shouted  through  his  trumpet. 
The  towboat  puffed  into  position.  The  anchors  were 
lifted  from  the  bottom.  The  time  for  the  final  test 
had  come. 

Then  the  little  tug  showed  what  she  was  made  of. 
Coughing,  panting  like  a  bull-dog  straining  at  a  chain, 
she  pulled  at  that  hawser.  And,  slowly  at  first,  but 
gaining  headway  as  she  moved  in  the  dead  water  of 
the  slack  of  the  tide,  the  Freedom  followed  her 
through  the  channel  around  the  edge  of  the  shoal  into 
the  cove — and  safety.  At  ten  minutes  to  four  that 
morning  the  last  big  anchor  was  sent  down. 

"There!"  shouted  Captain  Titcomb.  "She'll  stay 
where  she  is  now  if  it  blows  hard  enough  to  frazzle 
out  a  handspike.  Boys,  the  job's  done.  Knock  off !" 

They  answered  him  with  a  cheer  that  woke  the  cat 
from  his  sleep  beneath  the  stove  at  the  lighthouse. 

The  tug  took  them  to  the  Point.  They  perched  all 
over  her,  heedless  of  the  cold  and  the  flying  spray. 
The  men  were  wildly  excited  over  the  unexpected 
good  luck.  They  cheered  the  partners  again  and  again 
and  gave  three  groans  for  the  "quitters,"  meaning 
Mr.  Clark  and  his  friends.  Peleg  Myrick  was  bear- 
ing his  concertina  to  safe  quarters  in  the  shanty,  and 
;they  insisted  that  he  should  play  it.  Peleg  protested 
that  it  was  too  wet  for  music  on  board  that  tug,  but 
they  threatened  to  heave  the  "push-and-pull-pianner" 
overboard  if  he  didn't  play. 
.  "Play  somethin'  we  can  sing,"  ordered  Bill  Taylor. 


"STORM  ALONG,  JOHN!"  381 

Peleg  struck  up  a  doleful  dirge  of  the  sea.  It  was 
loaded  to  the  gunwale  with  wrecks  and  disasters. 

"Belay  that!"  cried  Barney  Small.  "We  don't 
want  no  Come-all-ye's.  That's  the  tune  that  soured 
the  milk.  Give  us  a  hoe-down." 

The  musician  considered.  Then  he  burst  into  the 
air  that  every  fisherman  knows : 

"The  grub  is  in  the  galley  and  the  rum  is  in  the  jug — 
Storm  along,  John  !    John,  storm  along ! 

The  skipper's  from  Hyannis  and  he  gives  us  bully 

mug — 
Storm  along,  storm  along,  John !" 

"Chorus!"  howled  Barney,  waving  his  cap.  They 
joined  in  with  a  whoop : 

"Storm  along,  John!    John,  storm  along! 

Ain't  I  glad  my  day's  work's  done ! 
Storm  along,  John  !    John,  storm  along ! 

Ain't  I  glad  my  day's  work's  done!" 

Bradley  stood  by  the  back  door  of  the  big  shanty, 
looking  out  at  the  storm.  The  first  sickly  light  of 
morning  was  streaking  the  dingy,  tumbled  sky.  In- 
side the  building  the  men  were  keeping  up  their  cele- 
bration. No  one  had  suggested  turning  in. 

Captain  Titcomb  came  around  the  corner.  "There 
you  are,  hey!"  he  exclaimed,  with  a  breath  of  relief. 
"Blamed  if  I  didn't  begin  to  be  afraid  you'd  tumbled 
overboard.  Well,  son,  we  did  it!  by  crimus,  we  did 


382  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

it !  thanks  to  the  good  Lord  for  sendin'  that  whoopin' 
big  tide.  Titcomb  and  Nickerson  ain't  ready  for  the 
undertaker  yit.  Now  you  can  go  up  to  Orham  and 
tell  Gus  Baker  somethin'  wuth  while." 

Bradley  shrugged  his  shoulders.  Now  that  the 
strain  was  over,  and  they  had  won,  the  thoughts  that 
he  had  put  aside  were  coming  back.  He  was  realiz- 
ing that  the  firm's  success  didn't  mean  much  to  him. 
After  all,  what  did  he  really  care? 

"I  guess  Gus  wouldn't  be  greatly  interested,"  he 
said. 

The  Captain  seized  him  by  the  shoulders  and  spun 
him  around.  "Look  here,  son!"  he  cried.  "What 
fool  idea  have  you  got  in  your  "head?  What's  the 
matter  with  you?  Wouldn't  be  interested!  the  girl 
that  risked  her  life  to  haul  you  out  of  the  drink!" 

Bradley  shook  his  head.  "I  guess  you  forget  that 
Hammond  was  in  the  drink,  too,"  he  said. 

Captain  Titcomb  smote  *his  partner  a  blow  in  the 
chest. 

"You  crazy  loon!"  he  shouted.  "Is  that  what's 
ailin'  you?  Do  you  s'pose  she  cares  a  hurrah  in  To- 
phet  for  that  scamp  ?  Listen  to  me !  I  was  closer'n 
anybody  to  Gus  when  she  rowed  acrost  the  harbor 
that  night.  Sam  was  right  under  the  bow  of  her  skiff. 
He  hailed  her.  She  saw  him — looked  right  at  him. 
But  she  never  reached  out  a  hand.  Left  him  to  drown, 
like  the  durned  rat  he  is,  and  went  on  after  you.  After 
you,  d'you  understand?  Does  that  look " 

"Stop!"  Bradley's  eyes  were  ablaze.  "Is  that 
true  ?  Say  that  again  I" 


"STORM  ALONG,  JOHN!"  383 

"True?  Say  it  again?  I'll  sing  it,  or  swear  it  on 
the  Bible  if  you  want  me  to.  Why,  you  ought  to  git 

down  and  crawl  to  that  girl.  She's Hi!  where 

you  goin'  ?" 

There  was  no  answer.  Bradley  was  running  at 
full  speed  for  the  beach.  A  few  minutes  more  and  he 
was  in  the  You  and  /,  heading  across  the  bay,  through 
the  rising  storm  and  in  the  dull  morning  light,  bound 
for  Orham. 

And  behind  him,  from  the  shanty,  floated  the 
chorus : 

"Storm  along,  John!    John,  storm  along! 

Ain't  I  glad  my  day's  work's  done ! 
Storm  along,  John!    John,  storm  along! 

Ain't  I  glad  my  day's  work's  DONE  1" 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THANKSGIVING. 

GUS  rose  early  that  morning.    The  storm  had 
awakened  her.    She  pulled  aside  the  window 
shade  and  peered  out  at  the  bare  branches  of 
the  silverleaf  beating  and  whipping  in  the  wind,  at 
the  sheets  of  rain  scudding  across  the  little  pond  in  the 
pasture,  at  the  whitecaps  in  the  inlet  and  harbor  and 
at  the  angry  sea  outside.     Down  in  the  village  the 
storm  signals  were  flying  from  the  pole  on  the  cupola 
of  "Cy"  Warner's  observatory.    The  southeast  gale, 
foretold  by  the  newspapers,  had  come. 

384 


THANKSGIVING  385 

She  saw  the  lighthouse  on  Baker's  Beach,  a  small 
shadowy  dot  in  the  distance.  Beyond  it  was  the  bay, 
and  miles  beyond  that  lay  Setuckit  Point.  Only  the 
landward  end  of  the  long  beach  was  visible  through 
the  smears  of  wind-driven  rain,  but  she  gazed  in  that 
direction  for  minutes. 

Grandmother  Baker  was  still  asleep  when  Gus 
came  downstairs.  The  girl  went  out  into  the  kitchen, 
where  Winfield,  gray-muzzled  and  rheumatic,  came, 
stretching  and  yawning,  to  meet  her.  She  fixed  the 
fire  in  the  range,  filled  the  teakettle,  and,  putting  on 
her  apron,  began  mixing  the  rye  muffins  for  break- 
fast. Every  now  and  then  she  left  her  work  to 
go  to  the  window.  The  storm  was  growing  steadily 
worse. 

The  muffins  were  ready  and  she  put  them  in  the 
oven.  She  went  to  the  sink  and  pumped  the  tin  hand 
basin  full  of  water ;  but  before  her  fingers  touched  it 
she  heard  the  yard  gate  shut  with  a  bang.  She 
thought  that  "Blount's  boy"  must  be  coming  with  the 
morning's  milk,  and  stepped  to  the  outside  door  to 
meet  him,  lifting  the  hook  from  the  staple. 

The  door  opened  and  Bradley  Nickerson  came 
in. 

He  wore  no  overcoat  or  oilskins,  and  his  clothes 
were  wet  through.  The  rain  poured  from  the  visor 
of  his  cap,  from  his  sleeves  and  the  hem  of  his  jacket. 
His  face  was  dotted  with  drops,  like  beads  of  per- 
spiration. He  did  not  wipe  them  away,  but  stood 
there,  on  Mrs.  Baker's  cherished  ingrain  carpet,  diip- 
ping  and  looking  at  the  girl  before  him. 


386  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

She  did  not  seem  to  notice  his  condition,  nor  appear 
astonished  at  his  coming.  Her  first  words  were 
strange  ones. 

"Oh!"  she  cried.    "Is  she  lost?" 

"Lost?"  he  repeated.    "Lost?" 

"Yes,  yes!  the  barge?  Has  the  gale  wrecked 
her?" 

Bradley  seemed  to  be  waking  from  a  dream.  uOh, 
the  barge !"  he  answered  slowly.  "The  barge?  Oh ! 
she's  all  right.  We  got  her  off." 

Gus  gave  a  little  sob  of  joy.  Her  eyes  filled  with 
tears.  "I'm  so  glad!"  she  exclaimed.  WI  was 
afraid " 

He  interrupted  her  by  stepping  forward  and  seiz- 
ing her  hands. 

"Gus !"  he  begged.     "Oh,  Gus !  do  you  love  me?" 

She  did  not  hesitate  nor  seem  surprised.  "Yes," 
she  said  simply,  looking  up  at  him. 

For  an  instant  he  returned  the  look.  Then  the  re- 
action came.  He  swayed,  sank  to  his  knees,  and  cried 
like  a  child,  hiding  his  face  in  her  apron. 

And  like  a  child  she  soothed  him,  stroking  his  wet 
hair,  and  crying  silently  in  sympathy. 

"Oh,  my  dear!"  he  pleaded,  over  and  over  again. 
"I've  behaved  like  a  foolish  child.  Can  you  forgive 
me?" 

She  smiled  like  the  sun  shining  through  the  last 
drops  of  a  summer  shower.  "It  was  my  fault,  more 
than  yours,"  she  said.  "I  was  selfish  and  so  silly,  but 
I  didn't  know — I  didn't  know." 

"But  you  know  now  ?    You're  sure?" 


THANKSGIVING  387 

The  answer  was  not  in  words  alone,  and  was  en- 
tirely satisfactory. 

"Tell  me  about  the  barge,"  she  begged,  a  little 
later.  "I'm  so  glad  and  so  very  proud  that  my  boy — 
really  my  boy  now — should  have  done  such  a  thing. 
If  you  know  how  I  have  worked  with  you  in  spirit, 
and  how  I  have  prayed  that  you  might  succeed.  Tell 
me  all  about  it,  please." 

But  he  would  not.  "Never  mind  that,  now!"  he 
cried.  "Let's  talk  of  something  worth  while.  Tell 
me  how  you  rowed  to  the  schooner  the  night  of  the 
fire.  You  brave  girl!" 

"Oh,  Brad!"  she  answered,  with  a  shudder.  "It 
was  dreadful !  I  could  see  you  on  the  deck  with  the 
fire  all  around,  and  I  heard  people  on  the  bridge  talk- 
ing about  the  dynamite.  I  kept  thinking,  over  and 
over,  that  I  should  never  get  there  in  time.  Suppose 
I  hadn't !  Oh,  suppose  I  hadn't !" 

"I  wonder,"  he  said,  musingly,  and  with  such  wor- 
shipping admiration  in  his  gaze  that  she  blushed;  "I 
wonder  if  I  can  ever  do  enough  to  make  you  happy — 
as  happy  as  you  deserve  to  be.  I  shall  try,  but  how 
can  I  do  enough?" 

"Hush,  dear!"  she  whispered  softly.  "Do  you 
think  I'm  not  perfectly  happy  now?" 

He  asked  her  to  come  with  him  to  the  big  house. 
"I  want  them  to  know,"  he  said.  "They'll  guess  it 
quick  enough  when  they  see  me,  but  I  want  them  to 
knoii'.  Come." 


388  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

Gus  hesitated.  She  looked  rather  doubtful.  ''Re- 
member, Brad,"  she  said,  "Miss  Prissy  and  her  sister 
have  never  liked  me." 

Bradley  laughed,  a  boyish,  merry  laugh.  "That's 
all  right,"  he  replied.  "Come  and  see." 

As  she  moved  to  the  hooks  by  the  door  to  get  her 
hood,  he  noticed  her  gown. 

"Why!'7  he  exclaimed,  "you're  soaking  wet!  I 
didn't  think.  I'm  sorry." 

"Why,  so  I  am !  And,  oh,  dear,  you're  wet  to  the 
skin!  You'll  get  cold.  And  I've  covered  you  with 
flour!" 

Bradley  looked  down  at  his  sodden  boots  and  gar- 
ments. His  coat  was  ornamented  with  white  finger- 
prints. "I'm  all  right,"  he  observed,  referring  to  the 
wet.  "I'm  used  to  it.  But  I  was  a  brute  to  let  you 
get  that  way.  Jiminy!  look  at  that  carpet!" 

The  section  of  the  carpet  near  the  doormat  looked 
like  the  flats  at  low  tide.  There  were  islands  in  the 
shape  of  muddy  footmarks,  and  channels  of  dirty 
water  between. 

"Never  mind  the  carpet,"  laughed  Gus.  "Come; 
I'm  ready." 

They  hurried  through  the  rain  to  the  door  of  the 
Allen  dining-room.  Bradley  knocked  and  Miss  Prissy 
answered  it. 

"Why,  Bradley!"  she  exclaimed.  "Why,  Brad- 
ley!" 

Miss    Tempy   came   running    from    the    kitchen. 

"Who "  she  began.     Then,  like  her  sister,  she 

cried,  "Wrhy,  Bradley!" 


THANKSGIVING  389 

"Aren't  you  going  to  ask  us  in?"  queried  the  young 
man,  calmly.  "It's  a  little  bit  damp  out  here." 

Wonderingly  the  sisters  stepped  aside  and  Bradley 
and  Gus  entered  the  dining-room.  The  table  was  set, 
the  fire  was  roaring  in  the  big  air-tight  stove,  the  ship 
at  the  top  of  the  tall  clock  in  the  corner  rocked  behind 
its  tin  waves,  the  boat  load  of  passengers  in  the 
"Shore  to  Shore"  picture  had  advanced  no  further  on 
their  journey — the  room  looked  just  the  same  as  it 
did  when  a  little  boy  in  a  man's  dingy  overcoat  en- 
tered it  on  a  winter's  night  years  before.  Nothing 
was  changed,  nothing  looked  older — except  the  sis- 
ters and  the  boy. 

"Has  anything  happened?"  asked  Miss  Tempy, 
anxiously.  Miss  Prissy  did  not  speak;  she  was  look- 
ing at  Gus. 

"Miss  Prissy  and  Miss  Tempy,"  Bradley  began, 
"I've  got  good  news  for  you.  The  Freedom  came  off 
the  shoal  last  night;  she's  anchored  behind  the  Point, 
safe  and  sound." 

Miss  Tempy  cried  out  and  clasped  her  hands.  Her 
sister's  face  lit  up,  and  she  opened  her  lips;  but  she 
did  not  speak ;  she  only  looked  at  Gus. 

"But  that  isn't  the  best  news,"  Bradley  went  on. 
"Gus  has  promised  to  marry  me." 

Again  Miss  Tempy  cried  out,  but  in  a  different 
tone.  And  still  Miss  Prissy  was  silent.  Her  sister 
came  forward  and  tremblingly  took  her  arm. 

"Aren't  you  glad?"  asked  Bradley. 

Miss  Prissy's  lip  quivered.  "Yes,"  she  faltered, 
"I  know  we  ought  to  be  glad.  She's  a  good  girl,  I'm 


390  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

sure,  and  she  saved  you  from  drowning.  But  it's 
hard " 

She  stopped  and  turned  away.  Miss  Tempy  put  an 
arm  about  her  waist. 

It  was  Gus  herself  who  did  precisely  the  right 
thing.  She  went  straight  up  to  Miss  Prissy  and  took 
her  hands. 

"Try  to  like  me,"  she  pleaded.  "Please  try,  be- 
cause— because  /  like  Brad  very  much,  too." 

And  then  Miss  Prissy  threw  her  arms  about  the 
girl's  neck  and  kissed  her.  "Bless  you,  dearie,"  she 
said.  "I  do.  like  you  and  I  am  glad  Bradley  has  chose 
so  well.  It's  only  because  we've  had  him  to  ourselves 

so  long  that Ah,  well!  Tempy,  we  mustn't  be 

selfish  old  women." 

Gus  kissed  them  both,  and  all  three  cried  a  little. 
And  with  those  tears  the  last  scrap  of  resentment 
against  the  "dog  girl"  was  washed  away. 

From  across  the  yard  came  the  sound  of  a  window 
being  raised.  Mrs.  Baker  was  heard  calling.  "Gusty!" 
she  screamed.  "Gus-tee!" 

Gus  ran  to  the  door.  "What  is  it,  Grandma?"  she 
asked. 

"Is  that  where  you  be?  The  muffins  are  burned 
black  as  a  coal,  and  the  kitchen's  full  of  smoke.  Cat's 
foot!  I  never  saw  such  a  girl !" 

Gus  ran  home  laughing.  Bradley  turned  to  find 
Miss  Tempy  staring  at  him.  "My  sakes  alive!"  she 
cried  wildly,  rushing  to  the  kitchen.  "Prissy,  the 
boy's  wet  soppin',  soakin'  through !  Fetch  me  the 
milk,  and  that  pepper  shaker,  quick !" 


THANKSGIVING  391 

Bradley  swallowed  the  last  drop  of  the  "pepper 
tea" — he  was  in  a  mood  where  nothing  short  of  a 
gallon  would  have  daunted  him — and  hastened  up- 
stairs to  put  on  dry  clothes.  When  he  came  down  he 
went  through  the  motions  of  eating  breakfast,  and 
answered,  as  best  he  could,  the  hundred  and  one  ques- 
tions regarding  the  floating  of  the  Freedom  that  the 
"old  maids"  and  Clara  asked.  He  had  been  up  prac- 
tically all  night,  but  was  too  excited  to  think  of  sleep, 
and,  remembering  how  unceremoniously  he  had  de- 
serted Captain  Titcomb,  decided  to  go  down  to  the 
post-office  and  telephone  to  the  Point. 

The  storm  was  in  full  blast  by  this  time.  The  wind 
screamed  through  the  tree  tops  and  the  thick  ropes  of 
rain  shot  downward  with  savage  force.  As  he  en- 
tered the  post-office  the  postmaster  called  to  him 
through  the  little  window  in  the  centre  of  the  frame 
of  mail  boxes. 

"Hi,  Brad !"  he  hailed.  "Is  that  you ?  I  jest  sent 
a  boy  uptown  after  you.  Cap'n  Ez  has  been  keepin' 
the  telephone  hot  for  the  last  ha'f  hour.  He  wants 
to  talk  to  you  the  worst  way." 

Bradley  was  alarmed.  Had  anything  happened  to 
the  Freedom?  He  entered  the  telephone  closet,  stood 
his  drenched  umbrella  in  a  corner,  and  gave  the  four 
rings  which  made  up  the  Setuckit  Point  call. 

The  wire  buzzed  and  hummed  like  an  overturned 
bee  hive.  The  receiver  at  his  ear  wailed  and  screeched 
like  a  banshee.  At  length  a  faint  "Hello!"  answered 
his  call. 

"Hello!"  he  shouted.   "That  you,  Cap'n  Knowles? 


392  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

Yes,  this  is  Brad  Nickerson.  I  want  to  talk  with 
Cap'n  Ez.  Can  you  get  him  for  me?" 

The  life-saver  laughed.  There  was  more  buzzing 
and  humming.  Then  Captain  Titcomb's  voice  rose 
above  the  music  of  the  storm. 

"Hello,  partner!"  it  called.  "That  you?  You 
don't  say !  Well,  this  is  Titcomb.  No,  the  Freedom's 
all  serene;  she'll  ride  it  out  as  slick  as  a  duck  in  a 
bucket.  But  there's  a  feller  here  wants  to  talk  with 
you.  Prick  up  your  ears  now  !" 

Bradley  heard  his  partner  laugh.  Then  another 
voice  began — a  drawling,  high-pitched  voice. 

"Is  that  you,  Bradley?"  it  droned.  "This  is  me 
talkin'.  Do  you  hear?" 

"Me?    Who's  me?" 

"Me,  Peleg — Peleg  Myrick.  Cap'n  Ez  wants  to 
know  what  I'd  better  do  with  the  dynamite  I've  got 
buried  under  my  shanty  ?  I'm  scart  to  death  of  it." 

"The  dynamite?  What  dynamite?" 

"The  dynamite  I  took  off  the  Divin'  Belle  the  day 
afore  she  wras  burnt.  Cap'n  Ez  ordered  me  to  take 
it  all  out,  so  I  done  it  the  next  forenoon.  What'll  I  do 
with  it?  I've  been  tryin'  to  tell  you'n'  the  Cap'n 
about  it,  but  you  never  give  me  no  chance.  Skeezicks 
is  the  divil  to  dig,  and  if  he  scratches  that  stuff  up, 
why " 

"Stop!"  Bradley  shouted  it.  "Wait  a  minute! 
Peleg,  what  are  you  talkin'  about?  Do  you  mean 
there  was  no  dynamite  aboard  the  Diving  Belle  when 
she  burned?" 

"Ya-as.  I  took  it  all  out  that  mornin'.  What'll " 


THANKSGIVING  393 

Again  Bradley  shouted,  "Stop!"  He  wanted  to 
think.  If  there  was  no  dynamite  aboard  the  schooner, 
why — why  then  the  insurance  could  be  collected. 
If His  heart  sank  again. 

"I'm  afraid  that  won't  do,  Peleg,"  he  called. 
"She  certainly  blew  up.  I  heard  her,  and  felt 
the  shock  under  water.  Everybody  on  the  hill 
heard  the  explosion  and  saw  it,  too.  No,  Peleg. 
Much  obliged,  but  I  guess  you  must  have  left  some 
of  it." 

The  wire  whirred  and  sang.  Then  the  drawling 
voice  went  on.  It  said  : 

"Cap'n  Ez  wants  to  know  if  the  explosion  wan't 
pretty  small  for  a  dynamite  one — now  that  you  come 
to  think  of  it.  He  says,  what  about  the  gasoline 
tanks?" 

The  gasoline  tanks !  The  gasoline  for  the  engine ! 
It  had  been  stowed  in  the  bow  of  the  schooner. 

The  receiver  fell  from  Bradley's  hand.    He  stared 

at  the  calendar  on  the  wall  of  the  telephone  booth. 
*          *          *          *          *          *          * 

Thanksgiving  came  late  that  year,  but  it  was  a 
beautiful  day  when  it  did  come.  Clear  and  frosty, 
with  the  tingle  of  early  winter  in  the  breeze,  and  a 
thin  skim  of  ice  along  the  edges  of  the  brooks  and 
the  ponds  in  the  pasture.  Not  a  vestige  of  haze  on 
the  horizon.  The  sea  a  deep  rich  blue,  with  the  white 
sails  scattered  lightly  over  it  like  fallen  rose  petals. 
A  salty  tang  of  the  ocean  in  the  air,  the  savor  of  wide, 
clean  distances  and  rolling  billows.  A  day  to  set  one's 
shoulders  back  and  make  him  grateful  to  the  God 


394  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

who  gives  life  and  health.  An  ideal  Thanksgiving 
Day. 

Bradley,  with  an  expression  of  serene  contentment 
on  his  face,  was  leaning  on  the  fence  by  the  Allen 
barn,  gazing  out  across  the  inlet  and  the  harbor.  Cap- 
tain Titcomb  leaned  beside  him,  smoking  a  cigar.  He 
also  looked  like  a  thoroughly  happy  man. 

And  the  Captain  had  reason  to  be  happy.  The 
Freedom  had  been  towed  up  to  Boston  and  Cook  and 
Son  had  forwarded  a  check  for  the  amount  of  the 
contract,  accompanying  it  with  an  enthusiastic  letter 
of  approval  and  congratulation.  Obed  Nickerson, 
after  a  thorough  cross-questioning  of  Peleg  Myrick 
and  the  partners — whose  statements  were  substanti- 
ated by  Barney  Small,  Bearse  and  the  rest — had  writ- 
ten to  Boston  recommending  the  payment  of  the  in- 
surance on  the  Diving  Belle.  The  newspapers  had 
given  much  space  to  the  clearing  of  the  Freedom 
under  such  adverse  circumstances,  and,  from  this  ad- 
vertising, had  followed  the  receipt  of  many  communi- 
cations from  skippers  and  ship-owners  who  had 
anchor-dragging  or  other  wrecking  work  to  be  done. 

Also — and  this  was  no  small  help  to  the  Captain's 
happiness — he  had  made  his  peace  with  the  "old 
maids."  The  burning  of  the  schooner,  Bradley's  in- 
jury, and  the  fight  for  the  firm's  life  that  followed, 
had  diverted  the  minds  of  the  sisters  from  the  shock 
caused  by  the  disclosure  of  Captain  Ezra's  love  affair. 
They  had  had  time  to  think  it  over,  and,  while  they 
agreed  that  the  Captain  was  making  a  woeful  mis- 
take in  marrying  a  "young,  thoughtless  girl,"  still, 


THANKSGIVING  395 

as  Miss  Prissy  said,  "He's  old  enough  to  know  his 
own  mind,  and  'tain't  for  us  to  try  to  change  it,  no 
matter  how  much  we  may  pity  him." 

Forgiving  Clara  was  a  much  harder  matter.  Miss 
Tempy  especially  was  inclined  to  blame  the  girl  for 
"settin5  a  trap  for  the  Cap'n — he  bein'  such  an  honest, 
unsuspectin'  man — and  leadin'  him  on."  But  they 
forgave  her  finally,  thanks  to  the  influence  of  Bradley 
and  Gus.  And  so  Captain  Titcomb  had  been  invited 
to  the  Thanksgiving  dinner,  and  the  "old  maids"  and 
Grandmother  Baker  and  Gus  and  Clara  were  now  at 
work  in  the  kitchen  preparing  the  feast. 

"Cap'n,"  observed  Bradley,  "I'm  afraid  our  get- 
ting the  Freedom  clear  has  put  the  Jeremiah  Club  out 
of  business.  They  won't  have  anything  to  talk 
about." 

The  Captain  took  his  cigar  from  his  lips  and  blew 
a  cloud  of  smoke.  "Oh,  I've  fixed  that  all  right !"  he 
replied.  "They're  puttin'  in  their  time  findin'  fault 
with  Clara  for  marryin'  a  man  twice  as  old  as  she  is. 
Brad,"  he  added,  "have  you  made  up  your  mind  yit 
about  that  Cook  offer?" 

The  letter  from  Cook  and  Son  had  contained  some- 
thing beside  the  check  and  the  congratulations.  The 
firm  was  the  largest  owner  in  a  copper  mining  prop' 
erty  on  the  shores  of  Lake  Superior.  This  property 
was  to  be  developed  in  the  near  future.  A  harbor  was 
to  be  dredged  and  built,  a  fleet  of  tugs  and  barges  was 
to  be  employed.  Mr.  Cook  had  offered  to  put  Cap- 
tain Titcomb  and  Bradley  in  command  of  this  fleet, 
and  the  salaries  entailed  were  by  no  means  small. 


396  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

Bradley  took  from  his  pocket  the  envelope  contain- 
ing the  offer.  He  turned  it  slowly  about  in  his  hands. 

"Cap'n  Ez,"  he  said,  "I've  made  up  my  mind,  sub- 
ject, of  course,  to  your  approval.  The  offer  is  a  good 
one,  the  wages  are  as  high  as  our  earnings  in  the 
wrecking  business  are  likely  to  be  for  some  years. 
And  they're  sure." 

His  partner  looked  disappointed,  but  he  nodded 
and  said,  "Yes,  that's  so." 

"But,"  went  on  Bradley,  "in  spite  of  that  I  don't 
like  the  idea  of  quitting.  So — if  you  agree  with  me — 
I  say  let's  stick  it  out  down  here." 

The  Captain  thumped  the  fence-rail.  "Good 
enough!"  he  exclaimed.  "That's  what  /  say.  We're 
our  own  bosses,  the  outlook's  better'n  we  had  a  reason 
to  expect  at  the  end  of  our  fust  season,  and  I  b'lieve 
we  can  build  up  a  good  trade.  We've  made  a  fair 
profit  on  the  Freedom,  spite  of  the  heavy  expense,  and 
we  can  have  a  new  vessel  built  and  still  have  cash 
enough  on  hand  to  put  some  good-sized  jobs  through. 
I'm  with  you !  We'll  stick  it  out. 

"To  tell  the  truth,"  he  continued,  "I  don't  much 
take  to  the  idea  of  gittin'  back  under  'owners'  orders' 
ag'in.  That  is  to  say,  I  don't  wake  up  nights  and  cry 
for  it.  The  monkey  does  the  dancin',  but  it's  the 
organ  man  on  t'other  end  of  the  string  that  gits  the 
money.  For  a  feller  built  on  my  lines  it's  too  fasci- 
natin'  to  be  safe,  and What  on  airth?" 

He  pointed  to  the  road.  Along  the  sidewalk  came 
shambling  a  tall,  red-whiskered  figure,  with  the  re- 
mains of  what  had  once  been  a  fur  cap  on  its  head, 


THANKSGIVING  397 

and  a  dirty  worsted  tippet  knotted  about  its  neck. 
Bradley  looked,  and  all  at  once  he  was  back  in  a 
rocking,  stuffy  stagecoach,  with  the  cold  night  air 
blowing  about  his  feet  and  the  snow  pelting  against 
the  windows.  He  could  even  smell  the  musty  straw 
on  the  coach  floor. 

"Do  you  see  it,  too?"  asked  Captain  Titcomb,  anx- 
iously. u  'Cause  if  you  don't,  I'm  goin'  to  turn  Speri- 
tu'list  right  off .  Sol!  Hey,  Sol!" 

The  figure  stopped  and  looked  up  and  down  the 
road.  Upon  a  repetition  of  the  Captain's  hail  it 
turned  its  eyes  in  the  right  direction. 

"Hi',  there!"  it  bellowed. 

"Foolish  Sol  Newcomb !"  exclaimed  the  Captain. 
"Blessed  if  it  ain't!  Thought  he  must  be  dead  by 
this  time.  Come  on,  Brad!" 

They  went  down  to  the  gate  and  the  figure  came  to 
meet  them. 

"For  the  land  sakes,  Sol!"  said  Captain  Titcomb, 
"where'd  you  light  from?" 

Mr.  Newcomb  looked  sadly  at  the  sky.  "I've  been 
livin'  over  to  East  Wellmouth,"  he  answered  in  a 
drawl  that  made  Peleg's  seem  like  rapid  transit.  "But 
I  moved  back  ag'in  to  where  I  used  to  be.  'Twas  too. 
lively  over  there.  Too  much  goin'  on." 

Captain  Titcomb  nodded  appreciatively.  "Yes/* 
he  agreed.  "I  sh'd  think  'twould  be.  Must  be  many- 
as  thirty-two  folks  over  to  East  Wellmouth — not 
countin'  dogs." 

"Ya-as,"  replied  Sol,  without  enthusiasm.  Then 
he  added,  "I'm  c'lectin'  my  road  taxes." 


398  PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

"You  are,  hey?    Road  taxes ?" 

"Ya-as.  Bill  Hinckley  he  says  to  me,  he  says,  'Sol, 
you  walk  so  much  I  should  think  you'd  c'lect  road 
taxes.'  So  I'm  a-doin'  of  it." 

"Good  idea  !    About  what's  the  rate  ?" 

"Oh,  I  dunno!    'Bout  ten  cents,  maybe." 

The  Captain  contributed  a  quarter,  so  did  Bradley. 
The  tax  collector  looked  at  the  coins  doubtfully. 

"I  ain't  got  no  change,"  he  said. 

"Oh,  well,  that's  all  right.  I'm  behind,  anyway. 
Ain't  paid  my  road  taxes  for — let  me  see — pretty 
nigh  fifty  years.  And  Brad,  he's  payin'  in  advance." 

Sol  pocketed  the  money,  and  turned  to  go.  He  had 
taken  but  a  few  steps,  however,  when  he  stopped. 
"Hi,  there!"  he  yelled  after  them.  "Got  any  ter- 
backer?" 

"Blessed  if  that  ain't  like  renewin'  your  youth," 
observed  the  Captain,  as  they  re-entered  the  yard. 
"Takes  me  back  to  the  night  I  first  saw  you,  Brad. 
Hum !  well,  I  swan !" 

They  were  both  silent  for  a  moment.  Then  Cap- 
tain Titcomb  said : 

"Brad,  if  I  hadn't  tried  to  dive  through  the 
'Thomas  Doane's  plankin',  and  you  hadn't  had  that 
little  argument  with  friend  Burke,  where  do  you  cal'- 
Jate  you  and  me'd  be  now?" 

The  junior  partner  smiled.  "On  board  some  coaster 
or  other,  I  suppose,"  he  answered. 

"Yes,  I  guess  likely  we  would.  I'd  be  runnin'  that 
big  four-master  for  Williams  Brothers,  and  you'd  be 
fust  mate  prob'ly.  Sorry?" 


THANKSGIVING  399 

"Not  a  bit." 

"Me  neither.  If  I'd  stuck  to  the  old  line,  I'd  had 
a  conscience  by  this  time  that  I'd  have  been  scared  to 
sleep  in  the  same  bunk  with.  That  is,  if  I'd  lasted  so 
long  without  bein'  jailed.  I've  been  doin'  consider'ble 
thinkin'  for  the  last  few  months,  even  if  I  ain't  said 
much.  Brad,  remember  that  debate  you  and  me  had 
as  to  whether  honesty  was  the  best  policy  or  not?" 

"Yes,  I  remember  it." 

"Well,  I've  changed  my  mind  some  sence  then. 
Seein'  you  plow  right  ahead,  not  knucklin'  to  anybody, 
but  doin'  what  was  right  'cause  you  thought  'twas 
right,  and  havin'  the  respect  of  all  hands  the  way  you 
have,  has  kind  of  set  me  to  overhaulin'  my  own  kit.  I 
ain't  ready  yit  to  say  that  honesty's  the  best  policy, 
fur's  gittin'  rich  goes,  but  I  will  say  this :  It's  mighty 
nice  to  be  able  to  pass  a  lookin'  glass  without  feelin' 
like  holdin'  on  to  your  watch  and  hollerin'  for  the  con- 
stable. And  I'll  say  more'n  that :  Brad,  for  what  you 
did  that  night  aboard  the  Thomas  Doane,  and  for 
the  sermon  next  day  that  led  up  to  my  tellin'  Williams 
Brothers  to  set  sail  to  where  it's  everlastin'  summer — 
thanks." 

Bradley  looked  at  his  friend.  Both  men  were  smil- 
ing, but  their  eyes  were  serious  enough. 

"You're  welcome,"  said  the  junior  partner,  simply. 

A  bell  jingled  loudly  at  the  kitchen  door. 

"Din-ner!"  called  Miss  Prissy,  shrilly. 

They  walked  around  the  corner  of  the  barn.  There 
they  were  in  the  doorway,  the  "old  maids"  and  Gus. 
All  three  with  smiles  on  their  faces — the  dearest  faces 


400          PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

in  the  world,  so  Bradley  thought.  And  over  their 
shoulders  beamed  Grandmother  Baker  and  Clara. 

uHurry  up!"  cried  Miss  Prissy,  waving  the  bell. 
"Turkey's  on  the  table  and  gittin'  cold." 

"What  have  you  been  talkin'  about  all  this  time?" 
asked  Miss  Tempy. 

The  Captain  answered.  "Oh!"  he  said,  ubein'  as 
it's  Thanksgivin',  Brad  and  me  have  been  holdin'  a 
special  service — kind  of  a  grace  afore  meat.  Now, 
Tempy,  live  up  to  your  name  and  go  easy  on  the  pep- 
per tea.  It  biteth  like  a  sarpent — that's  no  joke — 
and  stingeth " 

"Hum!"  interrupted  Miss  Tempy  serenely;  "some 
folks  take  their  pepper  in  tea,  and  others  seem  to  like 
to  git  it  by  the  wholesale  out  of  the  box  in  the  closet." 

At  this  most  unexpected  retort  everybody  laughed, 
and  Captain  loudest  of  all. 

"Hold  on  there!  hold  on!"  he  protested;  "I'll  hol- 
ler, *  'Nough!'  Tempy,  don't  hit  a  feller  when  he's 
down." 

"If  you  don't  march  right  into  that  dinin'-room," 
observed  Miss  Prissy,  "you  won't  git  any  dinner — 
pepper  tea  or  anything  else." 

They  went  in,  laughing. 


THE  END. 


Popular  Copyright  Books 

AT    MODERATE    PRICES 

Any  of  the  following  titles  can  be  bought  of  your 
bookseller  at  50  cents  per  volume. 


The  Shepherd  of  the  Hills.    By  Harold  Bell  Wright. 

Jane  Cable.    By  George  Barr  McCutcheon. 

Abner  Daniel     By  Will  N.  Harben. 

The  Far  Horizon.     By  Lucas  Malet. 

The  Halo.     By  Bettina  von  Hutten. 

Jerry  Junior.    By  Jean  Webster. 

The  Powers  and  Maxine.    By  C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson. 

The  Balance  of  Power.    By  Arthur  Goodrich. 

Adventures  of  Captain  Kettle.    By  Cutcliffe  Hyne. 

Adventures  of  Gerard.     By  A.  Conan  Doyle. 

Adventures  of  Sherlock  Holmes.    By  A.  Conan  Doyle. 

Arms  and  the  Woman.    By  Harold  MacGrath. 

Artemus  Ward's  Works   (extra  illustrated). 

At  the  Mercy  of  Tiberius.     By  Augusta  Evans  Wilson. 

Awakening  of  Helena  Richie.     By  Margaret  Deland. 

Battle  Ground,  The.    By  Ellen  Glasgow. 

Belle  of  Bowling  Green,  The.     By  Amelia  E.  Barr. 

Ben  Blair.     By  Will  Lillibridge. 

Best  Man,  The.    By  Harold  MacGrath. 

Beth  Norvell.    By  Randall  Parrish. 

Bob  Hampton  of  Placer.    By  Randall  Parrish. 

Bob,  Son  of  Battle.     By  Alfred  Ollivant. 

Brass  Bowl,  The.    By  Louis  Joseph  Vance. 

Brethren,  The.    By  H.  Rider  Haggard. 

Broken  Lance,  The.     By   Herbert   Quick. 

By  Wit  of  Women.     By  Arthur  W.  Marchmont. 

Call  of  the  Blood,  The.    By  Robert  Kitchens. 

Cap'n  Eri.     By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

Cardigan.     By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 

Car  of  Destiny,  The.    By  C.  N.  and  A.  N.  Williamson. 

Casting  Away  of  Mrs.  Leeks  and  Mrs.  Aleshine.     By  Frank 

R.  Stockton. 
Cecilia's  Lovers.    By  Amelia  E.  Barr. 


Popular  Copyright  Books 

AT    MODERATE    PRICES 

Any  of  the  following  titles  can  be  bought  of  youx 
bookseller  at  50  cents  per  volume. 


Circle,  The.     By  Katharine  Cecil  Thurston  (author  of  "The 

Masquerader,"  "The  Gambler"). 

Colonial  Free  Lance,  A.    By  Chauncey  C.  Hotchkiss. 
Conquest  of  Canaan,  The.    By  Booth  Tarkington. 
Courier  of  Fortune,  A.    By  Arthur  W.  Marchmont 
Darrow  Enigma,  The.     By  Melvin  Severy. 
Deliverance,  The.     By  Ellen  Glasgow. 
Divine  Fire,  The.     By  May  Sinclair. 
Empire  Builders.    By  Francis  Lynde. 
Exploits  of  Brigadier  Gerard.    By  A.  Conan  Doyle. 
Fighting  Chance,  The.    By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 
For  a  Maiden  Brave.    By  Chauncey  C.  Hotchkiss. 

Fugitive  Blacksmith,  The.    By  Chas.  D.  Stewart. 
God's  Good  Man.    By  Marie  Corelli. 
Heart's  Highway,  The.    By  Mary  E.  Wilkins. 
Holladay  Case,  The.    By  Burton  Egbert  Stevenson. 
Hurricane  Island.    By  H.  B.  Marriott  Watson. 
In  Defiance  of  the  King.     By  Chauncey  C.  Hotchkiss. 
Indifference  of  Juliet,  The.     By  Grace  S.  Richmond. 
Infelice.     By  Augusta  Evans  Wilson. 

Lady  Betty  Across  the  Water.    By  C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Will- 
iamson. 

Lady  of  the  Mount,  The.    By  Frederic  S.  I  sham. 
Lane  That  Had  No  Turning,  The.    By  Gilbert  Parker. 
Langford  of  the  Three  Bars.     By  Kate  and  Virgil  D.  Boyles, 
Last  Trail,  The.     By  Zane  Grey. 
Leavenworth  Case,  The.    By  Anna  Katharine  Green, 
Lilac  Sunbonnet,  The.    By  S.  R.  Crockett. 
Lin  McLean.    By  Owen  Wister. 
Long  Night,  The.     By  Stanley  J.  Weyman. 
Maid  at  Arms,  The.    By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 


Popular  Copyright  Books 

AT    MODERATE    PRICES 

Any  of  the  following  titles  can  be  bought  of  your 
bookseller  at  50  cents  per  volume. 


Man  from  Red  Keg,  The.     By  Eugene  Thwing. 

Marthon  Mystery,  The.    By  Burton  Egbert  Stevenson. 

Memoirs  of  Sherlock  Holmes.    By  A.  Conan  Doyle. 

Millionaire  Baby,  The.     By  Anna  Katharine  Green. 

Missourian,  The.     By  Eugene  P.  Lyle,  Jr. 

Mr.  Barnes,  American.    By  A.  C.  Gunter. 

Mr.  Pratt.     By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

My  Friend  the  Chauffeur.    By  C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson. 

My  Lady  of  the  North.     By  Randall  Parrish. 

Mystery  of  June  13th.    By  Melvin  L.  Severy. 

Mystery  Tales.     By  Edgar  Allan  Poe. 

Nancy  Stair.     By  Elinor  Macartney  Lane. 

Order  No.  11.    By  Caroline  Abbot  Stanley. 

Pam.     By  Bettina  von  Hutten. 

Pam  Decides.    By  Bettina  von  Hutten. 

Partners  of  the  Tide.     By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

Phra  the  Phoenician.    By  Edwin  Lester  Arnold. 

President,  The.    By  Afred  Henry  Lewis. 

Princess  Passes,  The.    By  C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson. 

Princess  Virginia,  The.     By  C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson. 

Prisoners.    By  Mary  Cholmondeley. 

Private  War,  The.    By  Louis  Joseph  Vance. 

Prodigal  Son,  The.    By  Hall  Caine. 

Quickening,  The.    By  Francis  Lynde. 

Richard  the  Brazen.    By  Cyrus  T.  Brady  and  Edw.  Peple, 

Rose  of  the  World.     By  Agnes  and  Egerton  Castle. 

Running  Water.    By  A.  E.  W.  Mason. 

Santa  the  Carlist.    By  Arthur  W.  Marchmont. 

Seats  of  the  Mighty,  The.     By  Gilbert  Parker. 

Sir  Nigel.    By  A.  Conan  Doyle. 

Sir  Richard  Calmady.     By  Lucas  Malet 

Speckled  Bird,  A.    By  Augusta  Evans  Wilson, 


Popular  Copyright  Books 

AT    MODERATE    PRICES 

Any  of  the  following  titles  can  be  bought  of  youf 
bookseller  at  50  cents  per  volume. 


Purple  Parasol,  The.    By  George  Barr  McCutcheon. 

Princess  Dehra,  The.    By  John  Reed  Scott. 

Making  of  Bobby  Burnit,  The.    By  George  Randolph 

Chester. 
Last  Voyage  of  the  Donna  Isabel,  The.    By  Raudall 

Parrish. 

Bronze  Bell,  The.    By  Louis  Joseph  Vance. 
Pole  Baker.    By  Will  N.  Harben. 
Four  Million,  The.    By  O.  Henry. 
Idols.    By  William  J.  Locke. 
Wayfarers,  The.    By  Mary  Stewart  Cutting. 
Held  for  Orders.    By  Frank  H.  Spearman. 
Story  of  the  Outlaw,  The.    By  Emerson  Hough. 
Mistress  of  Brae  Farm,  The.    By  Rosa  N.  Carey. 
Explorer,  The.    By  William  Somerset  Maugham. 
Abbess  of  Vlaye,  The.    By  Stanley  Weyman. 
Alton  of  Somasco.    By  Harold  Bindloss. 
Ancient  Law,  The.    By  Ellen  Glasgow. 
Barrier,  The.    By  Rex  Beach. 
Bar  20.    By  Clarence  E.  Mulford. 
Beloved  Vagabond,  The.    By  William  J.  Locke. 
Beulah.     (Illustrated  Edition.)     By  Augusta  J.  Evans, 
Chaperon,  The.    By  C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson. 
Colonel  Greatheart.    By  H.  C.  Bailey. 
Dissolving  Circle,  The.    By  Will  Lillibridge. 
Elusive  Isabel.    By  Jacques  Futrelle. 
Fair  Moon  of  Bath,  The.    By  Elizabeth  Ellis. 
54.40  or  Fight.    By  Emerson  Hough. 


Popular  Copyright  Books 

AT    MODERATE    PRICES 

Any  of  the  following  titles  can  be  bought  of  your 
bookseller  at  50  cents  per  volume. 


Spirit  of  the  Border,  The.     By  Zane  Grey. 

Spoilers,  The.    By  Rex  Beach. 

Squire  Phin.     By  Holman  F.  Day. 

Stooping  Lady,  The.       By  Maurice  Hewlett. 

Subjection  of  Isabel  Carnaby.  By  Ellen  Thorneycroft  Fowler. 

Sunset  Trail,  The.     By  Alfred  Henry  Lewis. 

Sword  of  the  Old  Frontier,  A.     By  Randall  Parrish. 

Tales  of  Sherlock  Holmes.     By  A.  Conan  Doyle. 

That  Printer  of  Udell's.     By  Harold  Bell  Wright. 

Throwback,  The.     By  Alfred  Henry  Lewis. 

Trail  of  the  Sword,  The.     By  Gilbert  Parker. 

Treasure  of  Heaven,  The.     By  Marie  Corelli. 

Two  Vanrevels,  The.     By  Booth  Tarkington. 

Up  From  Slavery.     By  Booker  T.  Washington. 

Vashti.     By  Augusta  Evans  Wilson. 

Viper  of  Milan,  The  (original  edition).    By  Marjorie  Bowen. 

Voice  of  the  People,  The.    By  Ellen  Glasgow. 

V/heel  of  Life,  The.     By  Ellen  Glasgow. 

When  Wilderness  Was  King.    By  Randall  Parrish. 

Where  the  Trail  Divides.    By  Will  Lillibridge. 

Woman  in  Grey,  A.    By  Mrs.  C.  N.  Williamson. 

Wom«n  in  the  Alcove,  The.    By  Anna  Katharine  Green. 

Younger  Set,  The.     By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 

The  Weavers.    By  Gilbert  Parker. 

The  Little  Brown  Jug  at  Kildare.    By  Meredith  Nicholson. 

The  Prisoners  of  Chance.     By  Randall  Parrish. 

My  Lady  of  Cleve.    By  Percy  J.  Hartley. 

Loaded  Dice.     By  Ellery  H.  Clark. 

Get  Rich  Quick  Wallingford.    By  George  Randolph  Chester. 

The  Orphan.    By  Clarence  Mulford. 

A  Gentleman  of  France.    By  Stanley  J.  Weyman. 


Popular  Copyright  Books 

AT  MODERATE  PRICES 

Any  of  the  following  titles  can  be  bought  of  your 
bookseller   at   the   price   you   paid   for   this    volume 


Anna  the  Adventuress.    By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Ann  Boyd.    By  Will  N.  Harben. 

At  The  Moorings.    By  Rosa  N.  Carey. 

By  Right  of  Purchase.     By  Harold  Bindloss. 

Carlton  Case,  The.    By  Ellery  H.  Clark. 

Chase  of  the  Golden  Plate.    By  Jacques  Futrelle. 

Cash  Intrigue,  The.    By  George  Randolph  Chester. 

Delafield  Affair,  The.    By  Florence  Finch  Kelly. 

Dominant  Dollar,  The.    By  Will  Lillibridge. 

Elusive  Pimpernel,  The.    By  Baroness  Orczy. 

Canton  &  Co.    By  Arthur  J.  Eddy. 

Gilbert  Neal.    By  Will  N.  Harben. 

Girl  and  the  Bill,  The.    By  Bannister  Merwin. 

Girl  from  His  Town,  The.    By  Marie  Van  Vorst. 

Glass  House,  The.    By  Florence  Morse  Kingsley. 

Highway  of  Fate,  The.    By  Rosa  N.  Carey. 

Homesteaders,  The.     By  Kate  and  Virgil  D.  Boyles. 

Husbands  of  Edith,  The.     George  Barr  McCutcheon. 

Inez.     (Illustrated  Ed.)     By  Augusta  J.  Evans. 

Into  the  Primitive.    By  Robert  Ames  Bennet. 

Jack  Spurlock,  Prodigal.    By  Horace  Lorimer. 

Jude  the  Obscure.    By  Thomas  Hardy. 

King  Spruce.    By  Holman  Day. 

Kingsmead.    By  Bettina  Von  Hutten. 

Ladder  of  Swords,  A.    By  Gilbert  Parker. 

Lorimer  of  the  Northwest.    By  Harold  Bindloss. 

Lorraine.    By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 

Loves  of  Miss  Anne,  The.    By  S.  R.  Crockett. 


Popular  Copyright  Books 

AT  MODERATE  PRICES 

Any  of  the  following  titles  can  be  bought  of  your 
bookseller   at   the    price    you    paid   for    this    volume 


Marcaria.    By  Augusta  J.  Evans. 

Mam'  Linda.    By  Will  N.  Harben. 

Maids  of  Paradise,  The.    By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 

Man  in  the  Corner,  The.    By  Baroness  Orczy. 

Marriage  A  La  Mode.    By  Mrs.  Humphry  Ward. 

Master  Mummer,  The.    By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Much  Ado  About  Peter.    By  Jean  Webster. 

Old,  Old  Story,  The.    By  Rosa  N.  Carey. 

Pardners.     By  Rex  Beach. 

Patience  of  John  Moreland,  The.    By  Mary  Dillon. 

Paul  Anthony,  Christian.    By  Hiram  W.  Hays. 

Prince  of  Sinners,  A.    By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Prodigious  Rickey,  The.    By  Owen  Johnson. 

Red  Mouse,  The.    By  William  Hamilton  Osborne. 

Refugees,  The.    By  A,  Conan  Doyle. 

Round  the  Corner  in  Gay  Street.    Grace  S.  Richmond. 

Rue :  With  a  Difference.    By  Rosa  N.  Carey. 

Set  in  Silver.    By  C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson. 

St.  Elmo.    By  Augusta  J.  Evans. 

Silver  Blade,  The.    By  Charles  E.  Walk. 

Spirit  in  Prison,  A.    By  Robert  Hichens. 

Strawberry  Handkerchief,  The.    By  Amelia  E.  Barr. 

Tess  of  the  D'Urbervilles.    By  Thomas  Hardy. 

Uncle  William.    By  Jennette  Lee. 

Way  of  a  Man,  The.    By  Emerson  Hough. 

Whirl,  The.    By  Foxcroft  Davis. 

With  Juliet  in  England.    By  Grace  S.  Richmond. 

Yellow  Circle,  The.    By  Charles  E.  Walk. 


Good  Fiction  Worth  Reading. 

A  series  of  romances  containing  several  of  the  old  favorites  in  the  field 
of  historical  fiction,  replete  with  powerful  romances  of  love  and  diplomacy 
that  excel  in  thrilling  and  absorbing  interest. 


DARNLEY.    A  Romance  of  the  times  of  Henry  VIII.  and  Cardinal  Wolsey. 
By  G.  P.  R.  James.     Cloth,  izmo.  with  four  illustrations  by  J.  Watson  Davis. 

Price,  «i.oo. 

In  point  of  publication,  "Darnley"  Is  that  work  by  Mr.  James  which 
follows  "Richelieu,"  and,  if  rumor  can  be  credited,  it  was  owing  to  the  ad- 
vice and  insistence  of  our  own  Washington  Irving  that  we  are  indebted 
primarily  for  the  story,  the  young  author  questioning  whether  he  could 
properly  paint  the  difference  in  the  characters  of  the  two  great  cardinals. 
And  it  is  not  surprising  that  James  should  have  hesitated;  he  had  been 
eminently  successful  in  giving  to  the  world  the  portrait  of  Richelieu  as  a. 
man,  and  by  attempting  a  similar  task  with  Wolsey  as  the  theme,  was 
much  like  tempting  fortune.  Irving  insisted  that  "Darnley"  came  natur- 
ally in  sequence,  and  this  opinion  toeing  supported  by  Sir  Walter  Scott, 
the  author  set  about  the  work. 

As  a  historical  romance  "Darnley"  is  a  book  that  can  be  taken  up 
pleasurably  again  and  again,  for  there  is  about  it  that  subtle  charm  which 
those  who  are  strangers  to  the  works  of  G.  P.  R.  James  have  claimed  was 
only  to  be  imparted  by  Dumas. 

If  there  was  nothing  more  about  the  work  to  attract  especial  attention. 
the  account  of  the  meeting  of  the  kings  on  the  historic  "field  of  the  cloth  of 
sold"  would  entitle  the  story  to  the  most  favorable  consideration  of  every 
reader. 

There  Is  really  but  little  pure  romance  in  this  story,  for  the  author  ha* 
taken  care  to  imagine  love  passages  only  between  those  whom  history  has 
credited  with  having  entertained  the  tender  passion  one  for  another,  and 
fce  succeeds  in  making  such  lovers  as  all  the  world  must  love. 


CAPTAIN  BRAND,  OF  THE  SCHOONER  CENTIPEDE.    By 

Henry  A.  Wise,    U.  S.  N.    (Harry  Gringo).     Cloth,  i2mo.  with  four  illustra- 
tions by  J.  Watson  Davis.    Price,  $1.00. 

The  re-publication  of  this  story  will  please  those  lovers  of  sea  yarns 
•who  delight  in  so  much  of  the  salty  flavor  of  the  ocean  as  can  come  through 
tlie  medium  of  a  printed  page,  for  never  has  a  story  of  the  sea  and  those 
"'who  go  down  in  ships"  been  written  by  one  more  familiar  with  the  scenes 
depicted. 

The  one  book  of  this  gifted  author  which  Is  best  remembered,  and  which 
•will  be  read  with  pleasure  for  many  years  to  come,  is  "Captain  Brand," 
•who,  as  the  author  states  on  his  title  page,  was  a  "pirate  of  eminence  in 
the  West  Indies."  As  a  sea  story  pure  and  simple,  "Captain  Brand"  has 
never  been  excelled,,  and  as  a  story  of  piratical  life,  told  without  the  usual 
embellishments  of  blood  and  thunder,  it  has  no  equal. 

NICK  OP  THE  WOODS.  A  story  of  the  Early  Settlers  of  Kentucky.  By 
Robert  Montgomery  Bird.  Cloth,  i2mo.  with  four  illustrations  by  J.  Watson 
Davis.  Price,  $1.00. 

This  most  popular  novel  and  thrilling  story  of  early  frontier  life  in 
Kentucky  was  originally  published  in  the  year  1837.  The  novel,  long  out  of 
print,  had  in  its  day  a  phenomenal  sale,  for  its  realistic  presentation  of 
Indian  and  frontier  life  in  the  early  days  of  settlement  in  the  South,  nar- 
rated in  the  tale  with  all  the  art  of  a  practiced  writer.  A  very  charming- 
love  romance  runs  through  the  story.  This  new  and  tasteful  edition  of 
"Nick  of  the  Wood's"  will  be  certain  to  make  many  new  admirers  for 
this  enchanting  story  from  Dr.  Bird's  clever  and  versatile  pen. 

Por  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  the  pub- 
lishers, A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY,  53-58  Duanc  St.,  New  York. 


THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  SANTA  CRUZ 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  DATE  stamped  below. 


JUL20'81 

JUL  2  0 1981 


100m-8,'65(F6282s8)2373 


ITORED  AT  NRLF 


PS3523.I46P36  1905 


3  2106  00212  3567 


